


Purrrfect Mate

by virtualpersonal



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Humor, Hunter Dean, M/M, Marking, Photographer Sam, Possessive Behavior, Sexy Times, Shifter Sam, a touch of angst, cat like behaviors, panther sam, reasearcher sam, romantic, sam and dean are not brothers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-12
Updated: 2015-06-12
Packaged: 2018-04-04 03:25:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 56,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4123995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/virtualpersonal/pseuds/virtualpersonal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Photographer Sam Wesson has made it his life's work to take pictures of 'the unexplained.' Only now, back from a trip to the jungles of the Amazon, he is one of the unexplained - a werepanther. Deciding it changes nothing, he is on the prowl in the nightclubs of miami, searching for the the thing that is selecting and killing young people from the clubs. Dean Winchester is hunting that same creature and runs into Sam, a lot. The heat between them is incredible but is that enough to prevent the hunter from hunting that which is not human?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> [](http://tinypic.com)  
>  Our thanks to Vamptastica for the banner
> 
> Co-written with Fetish

Dean sat on a stool with his elbow on the bar, rubbing his forehead and temple with his thumb. It was the first night since his injury that he felt well enough to go out and hunt again. What freaked him out wasn't that he'd been injured, but that he'd healed so damned fast. When _it_ happened, he'd told himself he was imagining it. Now, two nights later, when he was without a scar to prove the injury... he knew it wasn't his imagination.

He hadn't even been hunting when he'd been stabbed in the thigh. He'd just been stupid and hadn't thought the group of kids chasing a ball toward him was thugs after his wallet. Little bastards hadn't expected a fight, but it hadn't ended the way Dean thought it should have. By the time they left with his wallet, he was on the ground with a dagger sticking out of his inner thigh, blood spurting out to the beat of his heart. They'd fucking cut an artery. 

He'd torn a strip off the bottom of his shirt and started to tie it around his thigh when he'd gotten real lightheaded. He'd have fought it and driven himself to the hospital, only help arrived. Someone... he couldn't say who, pushed him back on the ground, then tore his jeans open. Dean tried to tell them to tie the cloth around his thigh to stem the flow of blood. Instead, incredibly strong hands clamped around his thigh, then... swear to God... it felt like someone was licking him clean of the blood. A cat tongue? A fuzzy sponge? Something.

He'd started to complain, to say he needed to get to the hospital, when he felt it again, and again, moving over his sensitive flesh. Where there had been incredible pain, suddenly there was only pleasure, like he hadn't been injured, like someone was kissing and licking him. At first, his mind had rejected the notion, told him he was hallucinating due to the blood loss. But the sensations were relentless, and he found himself tensing with sexual energy. So fucking weird... but so damned real. He reached with his hand, felt soft silky hair slipping through his fingers. "Who are... you?" he asked.

There was silence, and that tongue moving across his inner thigh. He felt his cock surge, and thicken, felt that slightly rough tongue brush against it, and moaned. His hips lifted up as he sought that same sensation, but the tongue was elusive, moving back over his wounds. "Who..." Dean tried to ask again, his mouth suddenly dry as the tongue touched him again. "Please... please..."

That's all he remembered. Everything had gone dark, and then he'd awakened in his own bed, back in his motel room. Someone had carried him from the parking lot, put him in bed, and pulled the door shut after they left. Angry red marks along his inner thigh proved his injuries, but the wound was completely sealed, as if it had been neatly sewn up at least a week before then. Then the next day... now, today, there wasn't a mark on him. Like it had never happened.

Dean slapped his palm on the bar top. "I'd like another," he called out, needing a little more whiskey to dull his mind just a little. 

*

Sam sat at the end of the bar, slowly sipping at the beer he'd ordered hours ago. He wasn't really much of a drinker, well, not alcohol, not anymore. Apparently he no longer had the tolerance for it and would wind up on the floor after only a couple beers, which at his size was just ridiculous. Six feet, four inches tall muscular men shouldn't get hammered on two beers. It was just wrong. But then, so were a lot of things in his life after his last trip to the Amazon. 

He'd gone in hopes of catching a chupracbra on film, but he'd come back with something more, something different, something he didn't want. He supposed he should be grateful, after all he could be dead, but maybe that would have been better than this. Sighing softly, he looked up from under his brows at the man seated a few stools down from him. He remembered the guy, remembered the punks who had stupidly tried to knife him for his wallet. Sam couldn't say he was sorry that one of them would probably be scarred for life now, and the others, well, if not just as scarred physically then at least mentally. He hadn't killed them, but he'd torn them up pretty badly after he'd seen to this guy who they'd left to bleed to death in the parking lot outside his damn motel room. 

Sam had been coming out to his own car when he'd smelled the adrenaline, the fear from the kids, just before he had smelled the rich coppery scent of the guy's blood. He was just thankful that he'd already lost enough that by the time Sam had gotten over to him, there was no way this guy was going to remember what he'd done, how he'd helped him, licking clean his wound and healing him. 

That was one of the perks, if you could call it that, of the curse Sam had brought back to Miami with him from his trip, the ability to heal someone with his saliva. He'd heard rumors about dogs supposedly having that ability if they licked clean a cut, but he had always thought it was an old wives tale. Even if it was, it turned out that the legend was real when it came to cats, or at least big jungle cats. 

Pulling his head up as the guy smacked the bar asking for another drink, Sam looked toward the bartender, then back to the guy. A hunter, he was fairly sure of it, he knew people who did that kind of thing, hunted the unexplainable, just like he did. Only unlike himself, instead of just snapping pictures of the unexplainable, they destroyed... killed it. 

Yeah, that was definitely the last person Sam needed to go meeting up with nowadays. In the past, he would have been rushing over to ask questions, but now, he could only wonder what kind of things this guy had seen that he only hoped to one day capture on film. 

Putting his money down on the bar, Dean pulled the drink over, lifted it to his mouth as he turned and looked around. His gaze clashed with another man's at the bar, and he raised a brow in inquiry. No, he didn't know the guy, but it was possible he was a hunter too, just from the way he dressed and carried himself. Not to mention the way he was looking at him. Well, it was either curiosity or interest, or maybe both. He didn't look away, wanting to see where this might lead.

Sam cleared his throat, giving a small nod of hello before tearing his gaze away and reaching for his beer. His gaze darting back over to the guy as he toyed with the bottle.

Dean grinned, never looking away. Yeah, if he was right, he was reading 'interested' in the guy's eyes. Slipping off the stool and moving to sit next to the guy, Dean had himself half convinced this was part of the job. Something had been luring people out of clubs in this area then gutting and tearing them apart. So he was just making sure this guy was clean. And if it turned out he got laid... that would just be a bonus.

"Dean Winchester," he said. "You look, familiar."

Sam's eyes widened before he hung his head. _Shit!_ He'd been sure the guy was too out of it to remember him. "Um, I don't think I know you," he peeked up at him from under his long bangs. "I'm not here a whole lot, so..." he offered a small tight smile, still not totally lifting his head.

"Me neither." Dean waited expectantly, but when the guy didn't volunteer, he asked directly. "Got a name? Or it'll bug me all night long, and I can't have that." Cocking his head, he waited, wondering why the guy was acting reserved now when he'd been openly staring at him earlier. 

Sam frowned. Should he give his name? Well, it wasn't like his name told anything much he supposed. "Uh, yeah, sorry," Sam mumbled, reaching a hand out. "Sam. Sam Wesson."

Dean shook hands with him, then chuckled. "Wesson. I knew you looked familiar. Jack Wesson, your dad or uncle?" The man was a well known hunter, though Dean hadn't heard of a Sam Wesson.

Sam's brows furrowed. Hunter, just as he'd thought. At least it was his uncle that he knew and it wasn't the guy remembering him licking his thigh clean. He pressed his lips together as he lifted his head, nodding. "My uncle, Jack Wesson is my uncle." Sam tore his gaze away to look at the bar top, a small smile tugging at his lips." He never mentioned you," he looked back over at Dean, "I would have remembered." 

"The name? Didn't think _it_ was that distinctive." But Dean was savvy enough to know the guy was signaling his interest, which was more than fine with him. His gaze traveled over the guy's face, his strong jaw line and features, softened by that sensuous mouth and those deep set almond shaped eyes that seemed at the same time expressive and full of mysteries... a contradiction, just like his face. Not one to usually think in terms other than 'like what I see' and 'don't like,' Dean took a second look at his glass. It was only his second one, and he hadn't had much of it yet. "You ah... here on business?" It was more than possible other hunters were after this same thing.

Sam looked back at the beer bottle in his hand, giving a nod and running his thumb back and forth over the condensation covered glass. "Mm, yeah," he looked back over at Dean, his gaze traveling over his features, brilliant green eyes, high cheek bones, a smattering of freckles across the bridge of his nose, full lips that looked a little too soft and inviting for someone like Sam to think about for too long. 

Blinking, Sam returned his eyes to Dean's, offering a small smile. "What about you?"

"Yeah. Got any leads? In case we're here on the _same_ business?" He asked, gaze locking with Sam's. He didn't often team up with people but if Jack Wesson had trained this guy, it was good enough for Dean. Although... at this moment, he was having trouble making himself think about business. 

Sam's eyes widened just a little as the shock of a hunter asking _him_ , a mere photographer, for leads hit him. Usually hunters laughed at him or told him to go home before he got himself hurt. Hell, even his own uncle had scoffed at what he did, telling Sam that if he wanted to chase around after the supernatural he should do it in a respectable fashion and at least kill the sons a bitches. Sam had always had a hard time with that idea. Most hunters saw things in black and white, to Sam there were many shades of grey. No, he wouldn't make a good hunter, he couldn't just kill something because it was unexplainable. 

Clearing his throat as he steeled his features, Sam gave a small shake of his head and looked back at the beer bottle. "Not really," he glanced over at Dean from the corner of his eye, giving a one shouldered shrug., "I mean nothin' you probably don't already know."

"Ah." Yeah, lots of hunters didn't share information. It was kind of weird if you thought about it, they were doing this to protect people, and yet the glory part of it was a big draw. A lot of them didn't like to share the credit. Lifting the glass up, he knocked back the rest of his drink, then licked his lips. 

Feeling the guy's gaze was on him, and knowing in his gut he wasn't wrong about this, Dean put his hand on Sam's back and leaned in, close to his ear. "I got a motel room, a couple miles away. Or the car. You up for a little _action_?" He was ready for any punch that might come, cause propositioning a hunter was always a bad idea unless it was under circumstances you were sure they'd be interested. 

Sam tensed feeling Dean's hand on his back, he nearly held his breath waiting for what would happen next. Not that he really had any idea. If this guy, this Dean, had been playing him, if he really did remember who he was, what he had done, he wasn't real sure how he would go about killing him. Here, in the middle of a bar? Or was it the kind of thing you stepped outside for? 

His hand tightened around the beer bottle as Dean spoke, warm breath fanning his ear. He hoped to God, Dean wouldn't see it twitch like a cat's. Motel? Car? Sam pulled abruptly to his feet, head hanging as he shook it. "Um, no," he mumbled out quickly, reaching into his pocket, tossing a couple bills down on the bar. "I, uh, I gotta go." He stagger-stepped back away from the bar, grabbing his backpack off the floor to fling it over his shoulder.

No punch but yeah... he'd made a mistake. Big time. Dean was trying to process that even as he raised a hand up in the air. "Sorry... misunderstood," he said directly. He eyed Sam with regret for a long moment, took a deep breath and turning away, gestured to the bar tender. "Another one, here." Near death experiences almost always left him horny. It would be better if he concentrated on women tonight, the results were much more predictable. 

Sam gave a nod, lips pressed together as he quickly fumbled to keep his grip on his stuff and get outta there. "Yeah, uh, was nice talkin' to ya." It was the last thing Sam mumbled as he turned and nearly ran toward the door, dodging people as he went, only stopping to lean back against the building once he was outside. Oh God, that was close... It surely wasn't that he wasn't interested in the guy... but Sam had a bigger sense of self preservation than he did of mating... at least until the heat came up on him, but he hoped to be the hell outta here well before that happened. 

* * *

It was two nights later and Dean was at the edge of a crowd that had gathered around the police tape set up in park. No one was listening to the cops telling them to go home. Instead, all eyes were on the body that had been shredded so badly that the only reason you could tell the victim was a male was from the pieces of his mustache on the non-filleted parts of his face. Someone whispered 'wolverine claws.'

Dean wanted to get a closer look, and he would once the emergency and law enforcement personnel were gone. He turned his head, and across the way, he caught sight of Sam with a camera in his hand. Their eyes met, a look passed between them. They both knew there was more to this than even the cops thought. He looked away and kept searching for clues, trying to ignore the way his heart lurched. They'd already established Sam didn't swing that way... at all, so he wasn't about to bark up the wrong tree.

The crime scene was bloody and gruesome and Sam had to keep fighting the need to shift. He sure as hell could find out a hell of a lot if he shifted since his senses were much sharper in his new form, but he'd have to bide his time. Sure he had gotten a few good shots of the victim, but that really wasn't what he was after. A photograph of this creature, whatever the hell it was, would really rake in the dough for him, help out his online site and he wasn't about to miss that. Hunters, big named ones, paid good money into his site to help fund his research, and he wasn't going to let them down. 

Spotting Dean Winchester at the scene probably shouldn't have surprised him as much as it did, and it sure as hell shouldn't have stirred things in him that there was no way in hell he could act on. That was what he kept telling himself the entire time he walked over to the hunter. "Thoughts?"

"Oh yeah." But those, Dean wasn't about to elaborate on as they wouldn't be appreciated and might end up with him getting his face punched in, not that he couldn't fight back, but for something like this, he wouldn't. He licked his lips. "Bet you those matches right there..." he pointed next to the victim. "From a club within a couple blocks of here. Whatever this thing is, it's hunting grounds are limited. Like it can't get out of the area, or maybe it's looking for something." He shrugged. "There's a lot of blood, so it's not drinking it... I dunno. Last body I tried to see... it was too late, it had been sent out for cremation. But at least now I know the girl who works there," he said with a sly grin. "You? Got anything?"

Sam pulled the camera strap from around his neck, hands busy on the controls watching the digital pictures change on the back view panel, stopping at one of the ones in the middle of this batch. Stepping closer to Dean, shoulders touching, he leaned toward him as he held the camera out in front of them. "The last victim _before_ she was cremated."

"You got pictures." Shaking his head in approval, Dean leaned in and watched as Sam showed him a couple of pictures from different angles. "This thing likes to make a mess," he said, taking in Sam's scent then holding his breath when it made him want to lean in more. A proposition was already at the tip of his tongue. He had to clamp down on it and on thoughts of putting his arms around Sam right now, pressing up against him from behind. When Sam looked at him, Dean stepped away, sure he'd given himself away. "Thanks... for..." he motioned toward the camera.

Sam frowned at Dean's odd reaction, glancing between him and the camera before he gave a nod, lips pressed tightly together, brows furrowed. "Mm, yeah." He eyed Dean. "You, uh, you okay?" He hoped like hell the guy was, because he sure was starting not to be. He suddenly had the overwhelming desire to shove the guy up against a tree and start grinding against him like there was no tomorrow, which was just nuts for a lot of reasons. One, the heat was another week and a half away, or it should be. Two, Dean was a hunter and Sam didn't have a death wish. Three, nothing like calling attention to yourself near a crime scene where something with _claws_ tore someone apart, by shifting into something right in front of everyone's eyes. He cleared his throat as he tried to adjust his hardening cock without _looking_ like he was, shoving one hand down into the front pocket of his jeans as he shifted his weight. 

"Yeah, sure." Dean licked his lips, looked at Sam thoughtfully, then told himself he was imagining things. He noticed a couple of the cops leaning over and looking at something, then pointing beyond the tape. "Come on," he said, walking around the tape and in the direction the cops had been pointing, though they were no longer looking at whatever they'd been looking at or for.

Pulling his flashlight out, Dean lit the way, sweeping the beam back and forth on the ground, then suddenly stopping. "Here." Dropping down, he looked at the giant paw print. "Thing has wicked claws. Wolverine theory isn't sounding so bad all of a sudden." The newspapers hadn't mentioned missing hearts so he didn't think it was a werewolf. "The body you checked out, was the heart in it?"

Crouching down slightly behind Dean and to the side, Sam fought to keep his attention on what they were supposed to be doing and not the small sliver of skin he could now see peeking out on Dean's back as he pointed. Tearing his gaze away, he shook his head to clear it, frowning at the idea that this thing had claws nearly as long as his own when he shifted. "Huh?" Sam asked him, lifting the camera to snap a few shots of the prints, before lowering it, his attention back on Dean. "Heart? Uh, yeah, the heart was still intact," he frowned, "it looked almost like whatever it is was got pissed. No real reason for the attack," he gave a small shrug. "I mean as far as being a food source goes." 

"Yeah, I don't think it's looking for food, unless we can't see what it's consuming. Need to get a hold of the autopsy report." He could do that in the morning. Getting up, he started to track the thing. The park was mostly grass so the prints were hard to find, some of them in beds of flowers or areas where the grass was gone. They followed for quite a while then lost the track.

Dean shook his head and went to the last print again and started to walk a few yards in each direction from it. The only think he saw was a shoe print. He started to turn away, then cursed. "The sonovabitch shifted into a person, clothed." Running his hand through his hair, he spoke out loud. "Need to see if it crept up on this guy in monster form out here or lead him out the club or bar or wherever. I'm thinking lured him out."

"Dammit!" The curse left Sam's mouth before he could stop himself. A shifter was something he sure as hell didn't need. He shook his head, walking over to the shoe print. "Shifters can't shift dressed, the thing would be naked as the day it was born," he crouched next to the print, wishing he was alone so he could smell it, maybe get this thing's scent. "Had to have had clothes stashed here in the park."

"I don't think so." Feeling Sam's eyes on him, Dean shrugged. "That _thing_ didn't make a beeline to here. It ran around trees, went in haphazard directions. If its clothes had been here, that wouldn't be the case. And if it carried its clothes... where's all the blood? It would be dripping off the clothes," he guessed. "Oh, there are lots of things that can shift fully clothed, you can check them out at UnexplainedOrigions.com, even though the asshole that runs the place charges."

With that, Dean started to head back to the crime scene.

Sam looked up at Dean, a smirk pulling at his lips as he watched him walk away. Well, _someone_ seemed to know his work, even if he was pissy about the small fee. Pulling to his full height, Sam frowned down at the shoe mark before glancing back at Dean's back. Crouching again, Sam got down on all fours, nose against the earth, sniffing for a scent. 

When Sam wasn't at his side, Dean looked back and did a double take. It looked like the guy had his nose to the ground. Guess he was about to maybe take a close up... or something...

Turning back, he headed around the cops and started to look at the ground for paw prints. A half hour later, he was convinced that he was right, this thing had been in human form when it brought its prey out here. Intentionally, he bumped into the investigator who'd bagged the matches, and slipped the bag out of his pocket. 

"Sir, you need to get out of our way," the investigator said, without a hint of a smile, as he walked to the path where his car was parked.

Dean pressed the plastic against the matchbox. "Yahtzee." He got the name of the club, and dropped the bag onto the ground for the cops to find, and headed away, to his own car.

Walking back to the scene, Sam was frowning more than he had been before. The thing's scent was confusing as hell. Maybe it had been due to the mere trace of it he had picked up on but the thing seemed to have _two_ uniquely different smells. Which, even if it shifted from one form to the other, it still should have the same basic break down. This thing was all over the place. 

Running a hand though his hair, Sam's gaze darted about the area, and _no_ he was _not_ looking for Dean, so when he saw the hunter sliding into his car, there was no reason for the disappointment he felt or the heat that sang through his veins at the last sight of the hunter before the black Impala pulled away. Dean Winchester was the last thing he needed right now, no matter what his damn hormones were screaming at him.

* * *

It was another couple nights, and Dean had gotten what he needed from the morgue and he'd done the pathologist in the basement there, but he was still on the prowl for... yeah, he knew that the itch he had was for that hunter, Sam Wesson. Usually, he wasn't that picky, and he didn't get obsessed with a person, ever. But something about that guy got to him. Maybe it was the inaccessibility. He'd read 'yes' in the guy's eyes when really they'd been flashing 'no' but he'd been too fucking blind to see.

Still, usually he could just move on. He didn't know why he kept thinking about the guy, but he didn't like it. Tonight he'd found himself a honey who was on fire and he was sure she'd hit the spot. Parking the car alongside the chick's, he got out. By the time he reached her, she was out of the driver's seat and clinging to him. He chuckled and kissed her. "Plenty more where that came from," he whispered, pulling his tongue out of her mouth and push/pulling her toward the entrance to his room.

Walking back from grabbing a soda, Sam's thoughts were still on Dean Winchester when they really should be on figuring out what the thing was, getting a photo and getting the hell outta the area before the heat hit him. Instead, he was procrastinating, hoping for one more glimpse of the hunter, one more chance to take in his scent, to hear his voice, to gaze into his stunning green eyes. 

Rounding the corner toward his room, Sam's steps faltered as right before him, near the door to his room, stood Dean... with some blond bimbo who didn't seem to know the meaning of 'personal space'. _Stop staring._ , that was what he told himself, even as his eyes wouldn't seem to listen to him. Just when had the hunter changed motels?

Reaching the door to his room, his gaze still locked on the hunter, Sam leaned a shoulder against the door, popping the tab on his soda as he gave a nod. "Hi."

Dean's gaze locked with Sam's, even as the girl he was with kissed the hell out of his throat and pushed her hand down the inside of the back of his jeans. He licked his lips, for a moment, feeling like it was Sam's hands on him, Sam's breath on his throat, his tongue moving toward his ear. His body reacted instantly, his cock straining painfully against his zipper. "Hi..." he answered, a lot less steadily, and not because of Eve, either. He fished in his pocket for his room key, taking his time because he couldn't take his eyes off Sam. 

Sam's gaze darted down to the girl whose face was buried against the hunter's neck, his eyes narrowing for a brief moment, before he managed to chase back mating instincts that demanded he show the little minx just _who_ the hunter belonged to. Yeah, wouldn't _that_ be a sight? His gaze darted back up to Dean's face. "I guess I'll see ya 'round." Sam told him, his free hand reaching down, turning the door handle to his room. He offered a small tight smile, before shoving open the door, stepping inside. Anger and jealousy he had no right to feel caused him to slam the door closed. 

"Right."

"Let's get inside," Eve said breathlessly against Dean's ear.

"Yeah." Dean stared at the closed door next to his room, having had no idea he'd moved to a motel where Sam was staying. Then her hands were tugging on him and he unlocked the door, chuckling at her impatience. He'd picked her for a reason. Before he had the door closed, his tongue was down her throat. 

*

Setting his soda down on the table inside the door, Sam shrugged off his jacket, tossing it across the back of one of the chairs before reaching for the can of cola and walking over to the bed. 

Grabbing the remote where he'd tossed it, Sam sat down on the edge of the bed, flicking on the television as he toed off his boots, moving to lay back on the bed. That was when he started to hear it, or _them_ rather, the little sounds they were making. Soft sighs, giggles and chuckles, more sighs and moans. 

Reaching over to the night stand, Sam put his beverage down, grabbing up the pillow next to him to cover his face. _Please be quite, please be quite..._

*

"You're quite the tiger," Dean said, grabbing her wrist and looking at the marks she'd raked across his chest with those long red nails.

"Want me purr?" She asked, her lips slashing into a sexy smile.

"Nah, I'm the one's gonna make you purr," he answered, rolling them over, and trying not to notice how high pitched her screeches were. She felt good under him, that's what was important. And she was responsive... and when he saw 'yes' in her eyes, it was for real, not imagined.

*

When Sam pulled the pillow away from his face, his pupils were no longer round but long and narrow, running vertically down the center of his constantly changing brilliant green irises. Sam's breaths panted faster from between parted lips as he listened to the hunter and his wannabe _kitten_ next door. 

_Tiger_ , Sam huffed at the thought. He'd show him what a big jungle cat was like, and it sure wasn't like that slip of a slut he was in there rolling around with now. 

Purring... Sam groaned, squeezing his eyes closed as he rolled over onto his stomach. When was the last time _he'd_ purred? He couldn't even remember for certain. The stewardess from the plane? Or was it the baggage handler before that in the men's room? Thankfully he'd been able to learn a modicum of control over his needs since then. It'd been the longest six months of his life. 

*

"Oh God," Dean groaned as he thrust harder, sinking deep inside the woman under him. He could hear the TV. from the other room, knew it would cover their sounds, but a part of him ... a too big part of him wished it were Sam under him, Sam who was digging his fingers into his back, demanding more.

"Right here," he whispered, thrusting again and again, until the bed started to hit the wall. 

"Yes, oh yes, Mmmmm," she moaned, locking her legs around his waist. "Oh yes..."

Dean brought his mouth down over hers, muffling the sounds coming from her as he fucked harder. He needed to come, so badly, and he needed to get that damned hunter out of his mind.

*

Sam had rolled back over, grabbing the remote to turn the television as high as he could get the damn thing to go in hopes of drowning out the sounds of sex from next door. A fine sheen of sweat covered his body, making his long bangs cling to his forehead, breaths panting hard, chest rising and falling in time with each moan he heard echo into his room. 

Raising a fisted hand to his mouth, Sam bit into it, his cock achingly hard, pressing against the denim of his jeans. The knocking against the wall from what Sam could only imagine was the bed, was the last straw, it was all he could take. "Gaaauh! Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!" Sam yelled, reaching back with the hand he had just pulled from his mouth to bang back on the wall. 

Turning his head to the side, Sam squeezed his eyes closed as he gripped the bed linens with fingers now tipped with long black pointed claws. His body trembled, sweat running down from his temple as he fought to breathe easier, sounding nearly like a woman in a Lamaze class. Breath in through his nose, blowing slowly out through his mouth, teeth clenched tightly together, in and out, in and out... 

*

Hearing the thumping, Dean slipped his hand over her mouth. Their gazes locked, he started fucking her to the finish line. He had to clamp his teeth together, to hold in the sounds that threatened to erupt from his throat. Now it was just the sounds of their breathing, and the creaking of the mattress. Occasionally the headboard would bang, but he tried to be careful. The thing about being careful was it took a lot longer to 'get there'... with all the controlled moves.

Finally, his back stiffened. His fingers slipped off her mouth and her cry had him coming inside her. As he struggled to keep his eyes open, he saw forest green eyes staring at him for a moment, and then he saw her again, and collapsed on top of her. 

"Rawrr," she giggled, and held onto him as he rolled onto his back so she was on top. 

*

Dean walked outside and watched to make sure Eve got safely to her car. Once she left, he closed the door and headed to the bathroom for a quick shower.

*  
Silence. Blessed silence. Sam's grip on the bed slowly loosened, his claws retracting and sliding away, shifting back to his own short blunt nails. Still, he was far from relaxed, far from no longer feeling heat and desire flowing through his veins. His cock, hard and heavy between his legs gave testament to that, if his still slightly labored breaths didn't. Eyes slowly opening, his gaze darted about the room, listening to the sounds of the shower running next door. Pupils no longer cat-like but now back to round, Sam pulled from the bed, moving to the door, pausing with his hand on the knob. What was he going to say? Fuck me, and never mind the cat-like stuff, it's just an illusion? If he didn't kiss Dean, if he stayed in control, closed his eyes so the hunter didn't see... 

Waiting for a short while, Sam tugged open the door to his room, stepping out into the night barefooted, with no jacket, his shirt rumpled and hair still clinging to his forehead. Stepping over to the door next to his room, he knocked.

*

Wiping his face with a towel, another one wrapped around his waist, Dean looked through the peephole. Dropping his gun into his duffel, he moved back to the door and tugged it open. "Hey man, I'm sorry about the noise..."

Sam, who had hung his head down as he waited for the door to be answered slowly pulled it up, his gaze sliding over Dean's body, taking in the low towel slung down over trim narrow hips, washboard abs, muscular chest, wide shoulders, and sun kissed skin. Without another word, moving as fast as a jungle cat attacking its prey, Sam was on the hunter, one arm around him, the other cupping the back of his neck, thumb against his chin, tilting Dean's head back as Sam dipped his head, lips dragging hotly, kissing a slow trail from Dean's collarbone up to his ear. Kicking the door closed as Sam pushed them farther into the room, he nipped at Dean's neck. "How about if _I_ make you purr?" he whispered, hot breaths ghosting over sensitive flesh, lips brushing against Dean's ear as they moved.

 _Purr?_ That was weird, to hear it twice in one night. Even as Dean's mind was struggling to put stuff together, his body was responding to Sam's. He'd wanted him, this hunter, for days. Even tonight, even with Eve here in his bed, it had been Sam he'd wanted. And now the guy was holding him tight, like he wanted him as badly.

"I didn't..." Dean closed his eyes as Sam's moist lips rubbed against the shell of his ear. "I thought you didn't go this way?" he said, his own arm moving around Sam, his palm resting over his jean clad ass. Drawing back, he searched Sam's face. "Are you alright... you look flushed, and you're hot..." He moved his hand off Sam's ass onto his moist forehead. Unsure, he licked his lips. "You need... something... doc.... Ah..."

Lifting his head, Sam gazed into the hunter's eyes. "Never said I didn't 'go this way'," he told him breathlessly, his gaze darting down to Dean's lips as he sucked his own bottom one into his mouth. A soft moan broke from his throat before his eyes met Dean's once more. "Yeah, need somethin'..." he agreed, nodding as he push-pulled Dean backward toward the bed. "You," he said, pushing Dean back onto the mattress.

Hands on the bed, Dean crawled backwards, the towel loosening as his ass dragged against the mattress. Eyes locked with Sam's, he nodded. "I got _somethin'. Been wanting to give it to you._ He wasn't about to beat around the bush, or play games. Reaching out, he started to undo Sam's shirt. "You sure you're alright?" Sam's eyes looked a little glazed over but he couldn't smell any liquor coming from him. As soon as the buttons were undone, he started to shove the shirt off Sam's shoulders.

His gaze laser focused on Dean's eyes, Sam knelt on the bed as the hunter unbuttoned his shirt, allowing him to push it back off is shoulders, pulling his arms out of it and tossing it onto the floor. Leaning over Dean, Sam moved more onto the bed, crawling over him on all fours, his gaze never leaving Dean's. "My jeans, take 'em off," Sam told him softly before dipping his head, parted lips trailing over Dean's upper chest, then lower as Sam crouched back, lips and teeth teasing Dean's nipple.

Dean's breath was knocked out of him. "I'll take that as a 'yes,'" he rasped, moaning as Sam's lips pinched his nipple. He slid his hands up and down Sam's trim sides, feeling his impatience and urgency in the way he moved his hips, trying to get Dean to do as he'd demanded. Snickering, then gasping as Sam's mouth moved across his chest, Dean undid Sam's button, then held onto the top of his jeans with one hand, and fumbled looking for the zipper with the other. A little of the fumbling was intentional, but when he felt Sam's package, he swore. Tracing Sam's shaft down to its tip, he suddenly needed to see it right now. 

He pulled the zipper down, then started to push Sam's jeans down his hips as the guy leaned in even more. He worked the jeans and shorts down below his ass, then put his hands over the smooth skin of his ass cheeks and squeezed, loving how Sam's muscles clenched under his palms. He dipped his head, kissing Sam's jaw and trying to find his mouth.

Moving his mouth farther away from Dean's questing one, Sam started to kiss a trail down the hunter's chest, lifting his head only after he was out of range of Dean's mouth. "No kissing," Sam told him with a shake of his head, his gaze locked on Dean's.

"Why?" Dean cocked his head, his hands still massaging Sam's ass, pulling him closer. "I'm a good kisser," he licked his lips very slowly, very deliberately. "I don't have anything... you won't catch anything from me." Sure, the guy had just seen him with Eve, but Dean was surprised by his refusal to swap spit and hoped he didn't mean it.

Sam's gaze tracked the movement of Dean's tongue like a cat ready to pounce on its prey. Sam almost laughed at the idea that he would catch something from the guy, almost. Instead of pouncing, Sam shook himself out of his stupor, forcing himself to look away from Dean's mouth. He shook his head. "I don't doubt that, but," he pressed his lips together as his gaze fell for a moment before he looked back up. "I just can't. You can fuck me, you just can't kiss me. Okay?"

"Can't kiss you... anywhere?" he asked, though his mind was on how he could fuck him. Not like he hadn't fucked plenty of guys with no kissing action, only those times had always been in dirty alleys, not in his own bed. Then again, considering how Sam had come to him, maybe it was _just the same_ as when he took a random guy out to an alley.

Sam sucked his own bottom lip into his mouth as he gazed into Dean's eyes, finally he nodded. "Anywhere you want, just not the mouth." He hated this, he really did. He wanted nothing more than to kiss those full lips, to see if they were as soft as they looked, to feel them under his own, to slide his tongue alongside the hunters... but that would be like signing his own death warrant. He couldn't do that, couldn't let Dean know what he was. "Another time, another place, I'd kiss the hell out of you," he shook his head, "but not here, not now. I can't."

"Makes no sense, but if you just want to be fucked, I'm your man," Dean answered, tugging the towel trapped between out of the way. His cock was already semi hard. "Wanted you for a while," he explained thickly, dragging Sam down over him and raising his hips. Their cocks slid against each other, Dean let out a needy moan. "Said something about making me purr?" Locking his knees on either side of Sam's thighs, he rolled them over. 

The moan lodged in Sam's throat as their cocks slid together. Purr... HA! Dean had no idea. He would have to watch that, make sure he didn't stick around too long after they finished. Fuck him and get the hell outta there.

Now Dean was straddling Sam's thighs, looking down at his long thick cock. His gaze flicked to Sam's for a moment, then he lowered his head and licked him, from his throat, down his chest and belly, sucking here and there, then moving his closed mouth along Sam's shaft, feeling it surge under him. 

Sam's breaths panted out from between parted lips as he looked up at the hunter, watching as Dean dipped his head, feeling his tongue, soft, warm, wet, _normal_ , licking along his body. Sam arched his hips up toward, pushing his heated flesh up more firmly against the hunter's mouth. His cock pulsed and twitched, pearling with precum. A low deep groan broke from Sam's throat as Dean's mouth moved along his aching shaft. "Oh God..." the words tumbled from Sam's lips on a whisper of breath as his eyes closed. 

Getting back up on his hands and knees, Dean grabbed Sam's jeans and crawled backwards, pulling them completely off.

Feeling Dean's mouth leaving his cock, Sam opened his eyes to look down at the hunter. He reached for him once Dean had his jeans off, one large hand wrapping around the hunter's cock, stoking and squeezing, as he watched Dean's face, his other hand reaching lower to cup the hunter's balls, squeezing lightly.

Dean closed his eyes, moving his hips mindlessly as he was stroked and squeezed. "Fuck..." he cursed, loving how it felt to have a large strong hand wrapped around his cock, moving just the way he needed. In just a few strokes, he was rock hard. He leaned in, and closed his own calloused fist around Sam's dick, running only his thumb up and down first, then stroking him with his full fist. His gaze wavered between Sam's eyes, and his mouth. The more Dean realized he couldn't have it, the more he wanted it. "I can tie cherry stems into knots," he said. "Let me inside your mouth."

Sam's hand stilled on Dean's cock as he pressed his lips tightly together, nostrils flaring with his heavy breaths. God, he would like nothing better than to give the hunter what he was asking, to mindlessly lose himself in kissing him, hadn't the baggage boy said that Sam's tongue was the hottest thing he had ever felt before? Of course, the kid would have no way of knowing why his tongue was like that, not to mention the kid couldn't have been a day over 18. Yeah, sometimes the heat made you do some crazy shit. There was just no way he could kiss the hunter, no way. He shook his head. "Can't." Tearing his gaze away from Dean's Sam started stroking the hunter again, long hard pulls of his cock, hand cupping his balls squeezing rhythmically.

"The hell you can't." As Dean fucked Sam's fist, he moved higher up his thighs so Sam's cock was between his own legs, their fists touching and knocking against each other. Dean leaned forward as far as he could and started to kiss Sam's throat, moving upwards to his ear. He started to kiss Sam's ear, to breath over it and then to twirl his wet tongue around, practically tongue fucking it relentlessly as he stroked Sam. Let him know what it would feel like inside his mouth, let him want it, crave it. To be sure, Dean kept moving over Sam's mouth, kissing him, testing the seam... asking... trying to get entrance, then moving back to his ear. 

Lips pressed tightly together, Sam squeezed his eyes closed, tried to concentrate on just stroking the guys cock, the way it felt as Dean stroked his. Tried not to think about how it would feel to have his tongue inside his mouth, teasing and sliding against his own, tried not to think about how he would taste, how good it would feel or how much it would add to what they were doing. His head thrashed as Dean continued to kiss the seam of his lips, teasing him, asking, giving little samples that weren't enough, were never enough. His back arched, hips still thrusting his cock into the hunters fisted hand, neck arching back, face flushed, tendons in his neck standing out as he fought the need, the want, the desire to do more, to shift and take, to thrust his tongue into the hunters mouth, to lap at the interior. "Stop it! I can't kiss you! Fuck!" His head turned away from Dean on the pillow.

Dean recoiled at the outburst, like he'd been struck. Teeth clenched together, he gave a curt nod. "Just fucking. Right." 

Sam opened his eyes to the sound of Dean's voice, turning his head back to look up into green eyes that were suddenly a lot less warm. The sight made something in Sam's chest ache, making him want nothing more than to take it back, though he knew he couldn't. 

Letting his hand slide off Sam's cock, he reached down and made him release his own dick then jerked his chin toward the headboard. "On your knees," he said, voice strained, tight. He half wished he had the willpower to toss Sam out on his ass, even though he'd gone without kissing so many times. Why he wanted it so bad with this guy and why it almost felt like a rejection... one that he cared about ... he didn't know or understand.  
With a sigh of regret, Sam sat up, moving to his knees and turning around to face the headboard, holding onto the woodwork as he hung his head, closing his eyes, and wishing like hell there was _some_ way that he could change this. But hadn't he tried? Looked into every lead, researched until his eyes burned for days on end, only to come up with a big fat zero. He was stuck this way until the day some hunter put a bullet in his brain. Lifting his head, Sam looked back over his shoulder at the hunter as he sucked his bottom lip into his mouth to keep from reaching back and doing the same with Dean's lip. 

Dean walked back on his knees, then moved to reach for the drawer of the nightstand. Pulling it open, he got the lube and a gold tin foil. Using his teeth, he tore it open, and dropped it down on the bed where he could get it when he wanted. His gaze met Sam's again, but his own was decidedly cooler.  
Sam slowly shook his head. "I'm sorry, it's not you, it's me. I have a _thing_ about kissing is all. It - it's too intimate." Yeah that was a good lie, maybe the guy would understand if he put it that way. He offered a small smile. "Gotta leave somethin' for the person I want to spend my life with, right?"

"If you're Julia Roberts," Dean answered, dropping the lube next to the condom. He wasn't buying it. What kind of guy pounded at your door at four a.m. demanding sex, then wouldn't kiss you because he was 'saving himself.' What kind of idiot did he think he was fucking with anyway? 

Sam hung his head as he turned back around to face the wall. _I can't because then you'll know I'm not completely human anymore._ Yeah, it wasn't like he could tell Dean the truth. Let him think he was an asshole, just some horny dick who wanted a quick fuck. Wasn't that the way it looked anyway? Might as well sound like it too. 

Dean's gaze swept over Sam's powerful thighs, lingering on his ass, then moved up his narrow waist to his broad shoulders. Yeah... he'd make a great fuck, and why he should even for one second have thought he wanted anything more was beyond him. 

He moved behind Sam, running his hands up and down his back, then cupping the side of his neck and forcing him to look back while Dean dipped his head down and kissed his throat. Only his kisses weren't slow and intimate anymore, and he hardly lingered in any one place. He tasted, taking what he wanted, not doing anything that even remotely would feel like a push for kissing. 

Sam's lips parted, eyes closing at the feel of Dean's mouth against his skin, kissing his heated flesh. Soft lips and warm breath making Sam start to rub back against Dean's body with his own, like a cat rubbing against someone’s ankles, needing the touch, low moans breaking from his throat.

Dean moved to the other side, this time scraping his teeth down Sam's shoulder blade, then moving lower. He started to kiss and lick his side, letting his tongue dip into the indentations between his muscles. One thing was for sure, he hadn't been with any guy who was as built. He moved his head between Sam's body and the headboard and kissed his way down his belly. He knew Sam hadn't expected that, heard him moan when he pulled his cock up and took its tip into his mouth. He sucked hard, moving his head up and down, then pulling off. 

As the hunter continued to kiss and lick his flesh, Sam writhed against him, breaths panting out in a near purr of sound, eyes closed, lips parted, his head tilted back. The lips at his belly had Sam lifting his head to look down in time to gasp in a breath as Dean reached for his cock, taking it into his warm wet mouth, his body jerking at the unexpected sensation, a deep groan tearing from Sam's throat.

Letting Sam's cock slip from his lips, Dean moved back behind Sam and reached around, closing his fingers around his now wet cock and stroking his fist up and down his length. His own dick was hard, so fucking hard it ached. He pressed it up against the cleft of Sam's ass, sliding it along his crack and groaning as Sam's ass cheeks gripped him. Fuck... he had muscle control too.  
Head tilting back, his eyes closed, hips thrusting his cock into the hunters hand, Sam moaned, breaths panting out, "Oh yeah... want you... don't stop..."

The words were a reminder that what Sam wanted was to get on with it. Dean still wasn't sure why he was so pissed, or was it disappointed? Maybe thoughts of the guy had lingered for so long in his mind and he'd thought this would never happen between them, and now that it was happening, he'd expected a little more than a straight out fuck. 

Pulling away, he grabbed the lube, uncapped it with his teeth, then poured some inside his palm and warmed the liquid by rubbing his hands together. He pulled Sam's cheek to one side and poured some of the liquid down his crack, then dragged his middle finger up and down the same path, lingering over the puckered skin around his hole. He started to push some of the lube inside, leaning down to kiss along Sam's side as he did, and cursing himself because he just couldn't help it, even when he should just bang him and get it over with. It was frustrating. 

Sam tensed, breath's hitching at the feel of Dean's finger sliding over and across his tight hole, making him moan. Turning his head, he looked down at Dean as he kissed his side, wanting so badly to tell him no, to kiss him, to kiss his lips, wanting, needing to taste him. Just one taste. Dragging his gaze away, Sam squeezed his eyes closed once more.

Once he worked his finger inside, Dean used his free hand to stroke up and down the front of Sam's body, pulling him bodily toward his finger, then using his own hips, thrusting against Sam's ass to push him forward. He started to work a second finger inside him, still pushing Sam's body back and forth and rubbing his cock against Sam's ass cheek to get the pressure he needed. The thought of being inside him, of fitting his body against this man's ... it almost had him coming right there.

The hunter's hand moving over his chest and stomach had Sam opening his eyes to watch the movements as if entranced, his tongue darting out to lick his lips. Being pulled back against the finger inside his ass, Sam's head tilted back, a low guttural groan tearing from his throat as he was pulled then pushed forward, being made to fuck back and forth on the finger inside him. The second finger had Sam gritting his teeth, as he moaned, breaths hissing in through his teeth. Before the baggage boy, Sam hadn't really been with any guys, and then he'd been on top, so he wasn't exactly used to having anything inside him there, not that he was about to say anything. They weren't lovers and this wasn't supposed to be full of caring and tenderness, it was a fuck. A fuck that the beast inside wanted, never mind that for once he and the beast were actually on the same page as far as desires went. It wasn't the way he would have wanted it, this was totally 'it's' way and not his, so he pressed his lips together, mentally telling the damned jungle cat to suck it up and deal with the burning. It was a fuck and it was who and how it wanted it. 

As soon as he was able to get a third finger inside Sam, Dean nipped his shoulder with his teeth, hanging on for another moment. Pulling back, he grabbed Sam's shirt from the bed and wiped the lube off his fingers, then pulled the condom out of the open foil. After stroking himself a few times with his other hand so he was fully erect, it only took him seconds to get the condom on. His gaze briefly met Sam's as he dropped the foil. He had a feeling Sam had been monitoring his actions to make sure he used the condom, which was fine with him. 

On his knees, he moved up behind Sam and immediately guided his cock to Sam's hole. With is his other arm wrapped around Sam's waist, he started to push inside. It only took two thrusts for him to realize Sam was tight. Very tight. Letting out a hot breath, he leaned his chin on Sam's shoulder and pushed more slowly, grunting when he fought the need to push all the way in at once. "Feel like a virgin," he groused, knowing it was impossible. 

Sam tore his gaze away from the hunter who he'd been watching after he felt the fingers slide from his ass, watching and waiting. If his fingers felt like that, he wasn't so sure that the guys cock was going to be a real joy for him to deal with, but he didn't mention that he was a virgin, that he'd need to go slow, didn't tell him that the third finger had burned like a son of a bitch, only pressed his lips together, gritting his teeth as he waited, then groaned, a deep grunt leaving him as Dean pushed inside his ass, filling him, stretching him as far as he was certain he could go. It definitely wasn't nice, it hurt like hell. His dwindling erection was proof of that. He huffed softly at the hunter's words, slowly closing his eyes, unwilling to open his mouth and say anything.

"Relax," he moved against Sam, running his hand up and down his chest, playing with his nipple, trying to distract him. He started pushing in again, biting his lower lip as he slipped most of the way inside. A strangled cry broke out of him. "So fucking tight..." 

Sam took a deep breath, _relax_ , yeah he definitely needed to do something. Sadly the animal within didn't seem to care, it still wanted to keep going, making his dick remain semi-hard when he was sure if it had been months ago, he would be as limp as a noodle about now. Sam's lips parted on a shocked gasp as Dean pushed most of the way inside, muscles tensing, straining, head hanging as he groaned. Releasing the headboard, he placed his palms flat against the wall. _Just do it._ Sam pushed against the wall, pressing his body back against the cock inside his ass, taking him the rest of the way inside, teeth clenched, a low growl of pain escaping, one that nearly sounded like a jungle cats hiss, before he could bite it back. 

Breaths panting, his hand slid slowly down the wall, head hanging. "Sssorry..."

"Ah...yeah." Dean had his own problems. It was called trying to hold still when his cock was so fucking hard it hurt. Sam was clenched around him, squeezing him, making him need to buck. "Fuck..." 

Counting backwards from a hundred, Dean managed to slow down. Small tiny movements of his hips were punctuated by the kisses he started to trail along Sam's shoulder and the side of his neck. He moved his other hand down, still using his inner forearm to hold Sam in place, but wrapping his hand around his dick and squeezing him.

He didn't give Sam much pressure, only short tiny squeezes... same as his own thrusts. He wasn't getting much relief, and neither would Sam. He wanted the need to build up, to match up, so that Sam's body was crying out for it... for this. 

Slowly, he started thrusting harder, groaning when he felt Sam clench around him. But he felt the guy relaxing more, felt him start to move back and forth. He started to give it to him harder, his mind a mess of confusion... he'd need to think this through later. Later, much later. He started to thrust harder, pulling Sam closer, fitting their bodies together, moving in unison. Angling his thrusts, he tried to find Sam's pleasure point, snapping his hips right when he thought he was there.

Sam slowly pulled his head up. Better. It was better, in fact it was starting to feel pretty damn good finally, the throbbing pain and burn nearly gone, replaced by only pleasure that had his cock swelling and pulsing in the hunters fisted hand as his body rocked back and forth, hips thrusting his cock into Dean's hand, before he pushed back against the cock buried deep inside his ass. Pleasure exploded along his nerves suddenly, making Sam cry out, moans and groans leaving him as he moved faster, thrusting his hips harder, pushing back against Dean's body with more urgency. "Yes, oh God... Oh fuck... " 

Dean smiled against Sam's shoulder. Finally. Almost immediately, he lost the ability to be smug and started to fuck him harder. He worked Sam's cock, groaning as hot precum spilled from his tip. He used it as lube, so his fist started to glide easier up and down Sam's thick cock. They were both moving hard now, Dean groaning each time Sam pushed back toward him. He pulled out half way, then slammed his body against Sam's, his cock sinking balls deep. Cursing as white hot heat inched through his veins, Dean started to fuck with a purpose.

His hips moved faster, harder, his balls slamming against Sam's. His breaths grew harsh and labored, mixing with the sound of the mattress squeaking and the frame hitting the wall. "Oh yeah... hell yeah," he whispered, licking Sam's neck. Fuck, the guy tasted so good. He just, he just needed to forget how much he wanted to tongue fuck him. Maybe it was revenge, he wasn't sure, but he bit his ear lobe the next time he slammed into him, and started to spiral hard toward his climax.  
Sam groaned, a sound bubbling out of his throat somewhere between a guttural cry and a growl as Dean bit his ear lobe, the desire to turn around and bite back nagging at the edges of his passion hazed mind. Jungle cats weren't gentle when they fucked and now, Sam wasn't either, not usually, not when he didn't have to fear being shot as soon as his partner felt his rough tongue and knew there was something unexplainable about him, something supernatural.

Muscles tensing, Sam grit his teeth, cock pulsing, swelling in the hunters fisted hand as he stroked him, his inner muscles tightening around Dean's cock ramming in and out of his ass. Squeezing his eyes closed, Sam threw his head back, tendons in his neck standing out, face flushed, balls drawing up painfully tight. With a loud growled cry, Sam's hips bucked once more before the first jet of spunk shot from his cock.

As Sam clenched around him, Dean balls tightened painfully hard. He thrust two more times and shouted out his own release, coming deep inside Sam's ass. He kept milking Sam's cock while Sam kept clenching around him, milking his own dick. "Oh God," he groaned one last time, instinctively realizing Sam had liked it when he bit down, and clamping his teeth around a small sliver of flesh along the side of Sam's neck. 

As Sam reared back, Dean came one more time, eyes widening slightly but refusing to release Sam's flesh. 

He hadn't been expecting the bite, but it sent a bolt of pleasure straight to his dick that had it pulsing, as he came harder, back arching as he grit is teeth a loud growl ripping from his throat. In the next instant, Sam turned his head and waist, teeth sinking into Dean's shoulder before he could pull completely back, a growl tearing from his throat, his eyes flashing brilliant green, pupils starting to elongate before he squeezed his eyes closed.

"Ungh... Jesus, Sam!" Dean threw his head back at the sudden pain, then collapsed forward against Sam's back. The vibrating sound from Sam's chest had been strange, and kind of exciting. His own blood had been pounding and roaring in his hears so Dean knew he'd heard it like it had come to him through a filter. After a couple minutes, he lifted his head and pulled back, looking at the bite mark on his shoulder. It was going to leave a bruise, no biggie. 

Slowly pulling out of Sam, he removed the condom and carefully dropped it into the waste basket next to the bed. Then he returned and wrapped an arm around Sam's waist and dragged him back down to the bed. Sam was on his stomach, and Dean had his chin on Sam's shoulder blade. He didn't realize it but he was drawing in his scent. "There. Gave you. _Something_ ," he said between hot breaths, a tired smile spreading across his face. Not quite what he'd envisioned, but he couldn't complain he wasn't satisfied. He'd needed this bad... needed it to be with Sam, for whatever fucked up reason, and it had happened. That's what was important.

Sam drew in a breath through his nose as he turned over, rolling so that he was over Dean, his eyes open to mere slits. "Mm, don't move, ’kay?" Sam mumbled softly, before pressing his lips to Dean's, kissing him softly, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth, making sure to keep his tongue back. Releasing it, Sam smiled drunkenly, his lips still against Dean's. "Been wanting to do that." _And more_.

Mouth burning, Dean didn't know what to make of that. It was an 'almost' kiss. It was clear to him Sam would still refuse his tongue, and he had no clue why. "Guess you got to do it," he answered. As if he'd been stopping Sam. He ran his hand down Sam's back, over the curve of his ass, lingering under, skimming over his sack now and again. Dean liked having Sam's weight pressing down on him, liked how he covered his entire body. Licking his lips, he put his other arm around Sam's waist, holding him in place, as if he wanted to be sure Sam stayed. It was weird, he hardly ever slept, especially if he had company. Right now, it's what he wanted to do. He let his eyes flutter shut, relaxed, but maintained his hold.

Sam started to relax against the hunter, started to lay his head down, burrowing closer to him, a purr of contentment sounding deep in his throat before his head jerked up, eyes wide, body tensing. "I - I should go," he stammered, starting to pull from Dean's arms. 

"Uh uh, stay," Dean demanded, his fingers digging into Sam's back. "You're just next door. Almost home," he muttered, not even bothering to open his eyes.

"Uh, yeah, I know, but I should go. I - I snore," he lied.

"Me too. We'll snore together. Now shaddup and sleep." A soft smile curved Dean's lips.

"No, really -" Sam pulled against the hold Dean had on him. "I have to go, I'm sorry." Pulling out of Dean's embrace and swinging his legs off the bed, he pulled to his feet and gathered up his clothes, haphazardly dressing as he went. "It - it was great, really. I just - I can't sleep with someone," he gave a small shrug and a smile. "It's a 'thing', sorry." 

Dean sat up, then got out of bed and walked a second person out of his room. Only he wasn't as pleased to this time. He didn't say anything as he watched through the crack of his door until Sam opened his own motel. Closing and locking his own room door, Dean took a couple steps toward the shower, then changed his mind and headed for the bed. Pulling the pillow close, he buried his face in it, still smelling Sam as he closed his eyes and went to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

Walking from Dean's room into his own, Sam closed and locked the door and leaned back against it with a sigh. Face tilted upward, he closed his eyes. He'd never wanted to kiss anyone more. Even with the sex, or maybe because of it, he'd wanted it so badly that he'd risked Dean deepening the small kiss he'd given him. If Dean had done that, Sam knew he'd be dead right now. 

Opening his eyes, Sam pulled away from the door, stripping his clothes off as he walked to his bed. He burrowed under the covers, closing his eyes. After a few minutes, a content purr sounded deep in his throat as he slowly drifted off to sleep. 

* * *

The club was packed. It was standing room only and Dean hated not being able to sit at the bar. He hated all the grabby hands trying to make him sway or dance. First off, he didn't dance, and second, he was fucking working ... looking for signs of anything out of place. He'd already followed two couples when he thought one person in the couple was too forceful. On both occasions, he'd figured out that the pairs knew each other well so it wasn't just a pickup, which is what was leading to these deaths.

Back inside and thirsty as hell, he walked through the wave of heated bodies toward the back bar. Without looking, he put his hands on someone's hips, trying to get by them, but as his body brushed against the guy's, a jolt of electric heat ran through him. He looked up into slanted green eyes staring back at him with all the heat in the world. 

Sam. Dean licked his lips. He hadn't seen him for two nights and had assumed he'd checked out from the motel. Well if he had, he'd probably just moved somewhere less noisy. Deliberately, Dean let his palm pass over Sam's stomach as he kept going. Every nerve in his body was aware of that man, but it was clear to Dean he was avoiding him and he wasn't gonna force his company on anyone.

Having spotted Dean making his way through the crowd near him, Sam had tried to back himself up against the wall, trying to nearly disappear if possible. However being the size he was, that wasn't really working. It was a blessing and a curse being this big, this tall. He was able to see above most everyone's head, which was good, however, it also meant it wasn't so easy for him to blend into the woodwork more often than not. 

As soon as Dean's hands touched his hips, Sam sucked in a breath, his posture frozen, staring at Dean, hungers that the hunter would never understand clawing at his belly. His gaze dropped to the all too brief sight of the hunter's pink tongue as it darted out to lick his lips, lips Sam could still remember the taste of. Stomach clenching at the slide of Dean's hand across it, Sam watched him continue to make his way through the crowd. 

Two nights, Sam had made sure to keep himself busy searching for the creature and staying away from his room. Two nights he had spent in the woods, alone and in the cold, with only the leaves on the forest floor as his bed. And each night, he had dreamed of the hunter. If he hadn't already known it before, that only solidified the fact that he needed to get the hell outta the area before the heat came on him. If he didn't... well, Sam didn't really even want to think about that. 

With a huff, Sam pulled away from the wall, his gaze still intent on the hunter as he made his way through the crowd over to the bar. "Hard screw," he glanced at Dean, "and I'll get his," Sam told the bartender as he reached into his pocket for his money clip. Jaw clenched, his head slightly bowed and with one hand still in his front jeans pocket, Sam asked, "You, uh, find anything new?"

 _Hard screw._ Yeah, that about covered it, though Dean was surprised to find Sam next to him. Searching his face, he ignored the question. "Figured you'd left town."

Sam frowned, shaking his head. "Nah, just -" his brows furrowed, "been busy." His gaze lingered on Dean's face, "And you didn't answer my question." A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips. "What, you afraid I might figure it out before you?"

"Terrified." He grabbed the beer the bar tender brought and nodded his thanks to Sam, still not sure what to make of his presence. Turning so his back was now to the bar and he could look around, he glanced at Sam. "You'll never believe it." When he'd looked at the reports, he hadn't been sure what the hell he was reading either, until the helpful doc whose number he had in his wallet had explained it to him. 

"Try me," Sam mumbled, stepping over, his drink in hand, to stand shoulder to shoulder with Dean, looking out into the sea of people. Lifting the glass, Sam tilted it to his lips, the tip of his tongue dipping over the edge of the glass and into the liquid, moving in quick flicks, lapping up the drink, though he made no sound.

 _Try you... I did try you, then you ran._ Dean's gaze dropped to Sam's mouth, then lower, staring into the glass, his head cocked slightly to the side. His brows furrowed, but he just shook his head and looked back up. "They found semen on the victims. Animal semen." He made a face. "No sign of rape so maybe this thing tears them up then jerks off? Ever hear anything like that? I don't mean in people, I mean in things." 

Sam frowned, pulling the glass from his lips, an almost angry look on his face. "Dammit!" He raised a hand, pinching the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger. He should have known this, should have expected it. It was nearly that time for him, of course... "It's in heat." Yeah, now that the thought occurred to him, Sam recollected the scent at the sites of the killings, and they'd had faint undertones of arousal and heat. He just hadn't put it together yet.

"What? What is? You know what this thing is?" Dean grabbed Sam's arm. "Tell me. Come on man, it's not about the credit, what is this thing?" He demanded, impatience coloring his voice.

Letting his hand fall from his face, Sam stared into Dean's face, his gaze dropping to the hunter's mouth and lingering for a long moment before he was able to tear his gaze away, returning his eyes to Dean's as he slowly shook his head. "For certain, I don't know. But, if it is part animal, this is the time that they go into heat. The heat," he sighed, "it can make the beast do... _things_ one might never do otherwise. It is quite possible that this thing isn't evil after all, I don't know."

"It's not evil? Bullshit. You saw those bodies." Dean gave him a hard stare, wondering what kind of hunter would even go there. "Why is it after specific people... men and women? It's clearly luring them out of the clubs... based on what? Haven't been finding any connections other than they all went to clubs in the area." 

Sam shook his head. "If it's in heat, the connection is that it was attracted. And yeah, it might not be evil," his gaze met Dean's a meaningful look entering his eyes. "Sometimes in the heat of the moment things get rough, people get hurt. If you're a dangerous creature, it's not just a simple bite on the shoulder." Sam turned then, heading back through the crowd toward the door, dropping off his glass on the narrow counter lining the wall.

"Says your friendly neighborhood rapist," Dean muttered, lifting his bottle to his lips and watching Sam move through the crowd, looking almost angry. Talk about moody. One minute he blew hot, the next cold. He acted straight or disinterested, then he was pushing inside Dean's room demanding sex. He said he wanted to taste Dean's lips, but wouldn't allow kissing. "Fucking walking contradiction," Dean muttered.

For another hour, Dean circled around the club, refusing to dance or socialize, keeping an eye on people. The place was such a meat market though it was impossible to follow each forming couple out the door to make sure everything was fine. Eventually, he decided to go patrol the park. That was where several of the murders had taken place. 

He was just crossing the greens when he heard sirens pass him, going north in the park. He started to run, then faltered and stopped when he saw Sam running toward him. "What is it?" He asked, his gut telling him it was another victim. "See anything?"

Having taken off from the club to head over to the park to look for more clues, and hoping like hell, for the damn creatures sake, that he found the thing before the obviously trigger happy hunter that was on its ass did, Sam had hidden in the shadows of the nearby wooded area, his mind filled with the possibilities of what could be happening if this thing was in heat and it wasn't really evil. Sure animals were aggressive, viscous even during sex, but they never really hurt each other, this went beyond hurting each other. Something was 'off', something wasn't adding up. 

That was as far as Sam got to thinking about it when a couple stepped into view, a large powerfully built man and some tiny red head. At first they were both all over one another, but then the guy had nearly slammed the girl back against a tree, ripping at her blouse despite her protests that he was hurting her. 

Sam was just about to step out to put a stop to it when he saw the flash of yellow in the guy's eyes a second before he shifted. Sam was out of the woods and running toward the guy in the blink of an eye. He was too late, though because the creature was clawing open her throat the moment it shifted. 

Jumping onto the creature, Sam fought, the two engaged, rolling around on the ground, long sharp claws tearing Sam's clothes and flesh as they wrestled. Sometime during the match, Sam found himself nearly tossed onto the already dead, blood covered girl, her vacant green eyes staring up at him in frozen fear. Pushing himself away, about to turn around and resume fighting, Sam heard the distant sound of sirens. Shit! Sam changed direction, running the hell out of the park, leaving the larger tiger-like creature behind. 

Running back toward his car still parked outside the club, Sam swore under his breath. Shifting into panther form would have helped him fight the thing, but he wasn't that good at controlling his ability to shift. Maybe it was for the best he hadn't since had obviously witnessed the incident and called the police. He just hoped to hell no one had gotten a good look at his face. 

Stagger stepping to a stop before Dean, Sam shook his head. Though he had run at full speed nearly five miles, he was barely even winded, a perk of the curse. "I dunno what it was," he nodded, "but yeah, there was another murder."

He got a look at Sam's torn and bloody clothing and the scratch marks near his throat. Moving closer, he frowned. They didn't look so bad. "So what did it look like?" His gaze locked with Sam's, "and how'd you know to be there..." Yeah, it was exactly what Dean had been trying to do too, but he guessed Sam had been lucky.

Sam frowned thoughtfully and shook his head, "I didn't really get a good look at it, I went to the park on the theory I told you," he gave a small shrug. "If it's in heat, it's not gonna stop until it successfully mates. I thought maybe it might show up and it did."

"That's it? That's all you have to say on that?" Dean gave him a skeptical look. If anything, Sam had been very fact specific and detail oriented in their prior conversations. "You better go get cleaned up, before the cops get a look at you," he said, heading the way Sam had come, but looking behind him thoughtfully. Something was definitely... fishy.

Sam opened his mouth, only to clamp it shut again as he watched Dean walk past him before he turned, walking toward his car. "Hey!" he called out. "You - you be careful," he gave a nod, "in case it's still there." Sam told him before jerking open the driver’s side door of his car and sliding behind the wheel. 

Dean jogged off, wanting to see as much as he could before there was too big a crowd.

* * *

About four hours later, Dean pulled into the motel's parking lot. He'd changed into a suit and then under the guise of being an FBI agent, he talked to the CSI people. He got out of the car, a cup of hot java in hand and headed for his room. Surprisingly, he saw the door next to his open, and Sam basically filled the doorway. He was wearing just boxer shorts and a tee, and his hair was wet so he looked like he'd just taken a shower or something. 

Nodding, he reached into his pocket for the key.

Crossing his arms over his chest, as he opened the door, Sam watched Dean walk from his car toward the door of his room, his gaze slowly traveling over Dean's form, taking in the suit and tie, the pressed dress shirt and the dress slacks that hinted at what was hidden underneath. "C'mere."

"For?" Dean raised an eyebrow, and drank some of his coffee. Sam's tone was flirty, definitely flirty. Even though he tried to play it cool, it wasn't like he'd forgotten that night, both the good and the bad of it. 

Sam's lips quirked upward as he leaned a shoulder against the door jam, tip of his tongue darting out to the edge of his lips, just barely visible, as he moved it slowly along their line before pulling it back into his mouth, his heated gaze never leaving Dean's. Slowly Sam's eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "You got somethin' on your suit," he let his arms fall from his chest, holding one hand out, arm outstretched as he waved him over, "c'mere, lemme see."

Dean looked at Sam's hand, then up into his face. "I let you see... you gonna let me kiss you?" His gaze lingered on Sam's mouth, and wasn't that exactly what Sam wanted? The way his tongue kept darting out like the prize he wouldn't let Dean have sure made it seem that way. 

The ghost of a smile that had been on Sam's face slid quickly away. "No," he told him with finality., "Anything else you want," he gave a slow nod, "I can do, but not that. I told you. I'm sorry."

Frowning, Dean started to loosen his tie. "You know, I _never_ felt cheap before." It was true, and he'd done plenty that people would think made him cheap. He didn't understand this himself. Licking his lips, he looked back up. "Then you kiss me. With tongue."

Sam clenched his jaw as he looked intently into Dean's eyes. "I told you, I can't. It's not that I don't want to, I _can't_!" Sam told him, the words nearly growled out. "And don't ask me to explain, because I can't do that either. Best I can do is tell you I'm saving it... for someone who loves me. Accepts me for who I am." _What I am._ He took a step back. "Are you coming in, or not?"

Indecision warred within Dean. He wanted to tell Sam to fuck off, really wanted to. But the heat in his eyes... it was just too much to resist. Cursing under his breath, he walked inside... and shoved the door closed behind him. "Shouldn't you be asleep?" he asked, moving into Sam's space.

Sam's gaze narrowed in on Dean's lips. "I took a cat nap," his eyes darted up to Dean's, "you really that worried about my sleeping habits?" he asked, reaching for the hem of his tee, pulling it up and over his head, tossing it onto the floor. "Like I said," his lips quirked, "c'mere."

Setting his coffee down on the chest of drawers, Dean strolled toward Sam, his gaze traveling hotly up and down his body. "Here," he announced, when he was standing in front of the taller man, then taking a half step more, so he was close enough to feel Sam's body heat emanating even through his suit. "You gonna make me purr?"

Sam raised a hand, cupping the base of Dean's neck as he leaned in, his mouth lowering toward the hunter's slowly, torturing himself with the thoughts of kissing those lips, with slanting his mouth over Dean's and sliding their tongues together, of how it would feel, how it would taste and remembering the small sample he'd gotten with his half kiss before. Changing direction at the last minute, Sam dipped his head, lips brushing against Dean's neck, hot breaths against the tender flesh of his throat. "Did you purr last time?" Sam asked him softly. 

"I'm pretty sure..." he closed his eyes, stepped closer and wrapped his arms around Sam's waist. "... it was ... you with the purring," he said, though it wasn't clear to him which of them had made that moan that sounded more like a vibration. He moved his hands up Sam's back, feeling his muscles ripple under his palms. He took a deep breath, Sam's clean fresh scent making him dizzy with need. Moving his face, he slid his mouth over Sam's, again, and again... no penetration with his tongue but he wanted Sam's lips to ache and burn like his did. 

As they touched and teased each other, Dean's clothes felt more restrictive. He reached between them, undoing his tie and starting to unbutton his shirt. 

Sam's hand slowly slid around to the side of Dean's face as he raised the other to cup to the opposite side, holding Dean's head gently, but firmly as he lowered parted lips to Dean's. "Please," he whispered, "just don't move. Let me do this," Sam said, brushing his open mouth against Dean's, breaths mingling, lips moving against Dean's, a low moan sounding deep in his throat. "Oh God..." Sam mumbled softly, lips sliding against the hunter's as he spoke.

Dean held still as this time Sam's mouth moved over his, tempting him, torturing him, but never giving him any satisfaction. Why was he teasing? Didn't he get Dean wasn't kidding, he fucking wanted that kiss. Unable to take it, this, he swept his tongue inside Sam's mouth, penetrating just past his teeth, running it over the roof of his mouth before Sam jerked back. Not even a little sorry, Dean put his hand behind Sam's head and pulled him close, mouth open, fully intending to give both of them what they needed. 

Sam's eyes opened instantly, head jerking back hard as he shoved Dean away before he would have a chance to feel his tongue. Eyes wide, Sam stood staring at him, breaths panting out. He raised a hand, wiping his mouth with the back of it, "I think maybe you should go." 

Watching Sam wipe his mouth, Dean's expression hardened. "You're right." Using his thumb, he did the same. "Good night, Julia," he ground out, taking two steps to the door, then remembering his coffee. He was damned if he was going to leave that for Sam. Striding right past him, he got his coffee. There were a lot of emotions storming within him. Shit like this never happened to him, maybe that was it. Whatever. Letting out a hot breath, he stormed over to the door and opened it, slamming it shut behind him.

The cool evening air felt good. Maybe it would cool his desires. What the fuck did he put himself out there for anyway? He didn't need this drama. Fuck that. Digging into his pocket, Dean got the key and opened his door.

Turning, Sam sat down on the edge of the bed, head hanging as he huffed before throwing himself back onto the mattress. As upset as he might be, as much as he might have wanted that, wanted the impossible, the beast within still wanted what it wanted and it wasn't giving up that easily. Sam's throbbing erection was proof of that. Dammit to hell! 

Pulling up, Sam walked toward the bathroom, grabbing clothes out of his bag as he went, slamming the door closed after himself, not that there was anyone there but himself to hear it, still... it made him feel a little better. A little. 

* 

Three and a half hours later, sometime in the wee hours of the morning, Sam pulled his car up in front of his room, reaching for the door handle only to have the girl seated next to him nearly launch herself into his arms, knocking them both half out of the car as the door swung open. 

Chuckling softly as he returned her kiss with everything he had, trying to chase away the memory of another pair of full soft lips. Sam eased them both out of the car, tumbling onto the pavement with her one top of him, his arm moving to wrap around her waist as he kicked the car door closed. Tearing his lips from hers, breaths panting softly out, he smiled at her, slightly slanted cat-like green eyes searching her lightly freckled face, "Come on, let’s go inside." 

He rolled, gracefully pulling to his feet, and offered her a hand up, only to have her once more slide into his arms, her hands running over his muscled body, her tongue quickly back in his mouth. Backing slowly up toward the door as they kissed, Sam tried not to compare her flavor with that of a certain hunter, tried not to be disappointed at the taste of bubble gum flavored lip gloss instead of the minty tang of tooth paste mixed with alcohol or coffee and the flavor that was uniquely Dean, even if all he'd gotten was a teasingly small sample. 

"I just can't get enough of your mouth," she giggled, "you have the most amazing tongue." 

Sam smiled almost sadly at her. "Heh, yeah, I heard that somewhere before," he mumbled in answer, only then catching sight of Dean standing there a few steps from his room door. 

Dean had awakened way early, and unable to sleep, decided to go to the 24 hour diner across the highway. He'd made it half way into the lot when he figured out he'd left his damned wallet behind. So here he was, right behind _them._ He didn't flinch from Sam's gaze, instead he made sure the guy knew he'd heard. Hell, he'd seen the girl shove her tongue in Sam's mouth. What the fuck? 

Staring, eyes full of accusation, he waited. Just stood there and waited until Sam finally got his fucking door open and took his _forever_ inside. 

Lips pressed into a flat, straight line, Dean stepped up and opened his own door. Inside, as he searched for his wallet, he could hear them. Hear her laughing, then screeching. Probably he'd tossed her on the bed. Then there was complete silence. Right, his _amazing_ tongue was probably buried in her throat.

That man was not worth another thought. Not a single other thought. Grabbing his wallet from his other jacket, he stormed out, slamming the door shut behind him. 

* * *

Three days and two bodies later, Dean finally had a lead. He'd used his FBI credentials again to get a hold of the CSI report on the crime scene for the last victim. A shoe print had been found nearby, same size as the one he and Sam had spotted at the park. Only this time there was red clay embedded in the print.

Some good old fashioned research left Dean with a short list of possibilities, and he was checking the last one on the list. The moon was high, lighting his way from the car to The Tile Factory. Looking around, Dean pulled out his flashlight and held it between his teeth as he unrolled his tools and started to work on getting the door unlocked. 

Within minutes, he was inside the factory, walking between long aisles of shelves piled high with square tiles. He swept the flashlight around, searching, looking up and down the shelves and ahead. His rifle was hanging off his shoulder, ready, and he was carrying more weapons in his jacket. This thing tore people to ribbons and he wasn't about to be less than prepared to tangle with it.

He rounded a corner, and the moonlight no longer penetrated this part of the factory. Now it was pitch dark. He aimed his flashlight ahead and suddenly saw a bright yellow reflection. Just like that, his rifle was in hand, aimed as he walked faster toward the reflection. 

Catching sight of Dean in the dark of the Tile Factory, Sam swore under his breath, but didn't move, only stood as he was waiting for Dean to get closer. If Dean was anything like his uncle, running would only make him shoot and that wouldn't be a good thing since Dean was probably smart enough to load his gun with silver bullets. After breaking into and hacking the CSI database, he'd arrived twenty minutes ago and sniffed around outside. When he was done, he'd jumped through a high open window in his black panther form, nearly invisible when the moon slipped behind some clouds. It was just a good damn thing he had found a workers overalls to pull on after shifting back since Dean had shown up, after all, how the hell would he of explained walking around bare assed naked in a Tile Factory in the middle of the night? 

Finger on the trigger, half pulling it, Dean stopped all of a sudden as he recognized the form in front of him. "What the fuck are you doing here trying to get your head blown off." He waved the beam of light around, searching for the yellow reflection and frowning when he got nothing. 

Sam's brows rose as he looked at Dean, then down at the flashlight he was shining all over the place. "No, why? What are you doing here? Trying to put on a one man spectacle of a light show? Put that thing away before we get caught."

"You have your night vision glasses on? Didn't think so." Putting the rifle down, Dean headed into the dark, not only irritated but a little shaken by seeing Sam when he hadn't expected it. He'd forced the man out of his mind, but it was freaking hard to keep him out if he kept popping up all over the place. Hearing a drip, he looked up and saw a loose beam at the roof and something leaking down from it. Bending to the floor, he smeared the liquid with his finger and saw it was just water.

Sam smirked as he watched Dean walk away. He didn't bother to point out the fact that _he_ had no flashlight and was doing just fine. He crossed his arms over his chest, slowly and silently walking up behind Dean, bending over his shoulder just as he hunter was pulling up from crouching. "Their A/C's on the fritz too, you wanna go look at that?" he smirked, chuckling softly as he slowly pulled back.

"Get outta my face," Dean suggested, though the look he shot Sam was pointless in the dark. Flashing the beam of light again, he started to look at some of the signs on the wall, next to various doors lining it. Drying room, wet clay, furnace... Deciding he'd go into the wet clay room first, he headed for it and tried the door. "Sononvabitch." Wasn't it enough they locked up the outside doors. He could feel Sam behind him and it only made him that much more irritable as he go his tools ready.

Leaning a shoulder against the wall, arms still crossed over his chest, he watched Dean get tools out he wouldn't need Sam he could trust the hunter to not shoot his brains out. "I take it you saw the CSI files, seeing as you're here."

"You." Dean leaned closer to the door, trying to work the tool and make it catch the latch. "Can take it... any way you like." Making a face as he exerted more pressure, he cursed. "Come on..." Sometimes old locks were bitches. 

Glancing up, Sam saw where a large overhead vent that looked like it lead into the room. Pulling away from the wall, he turned around and walked off into the darkness of the factory, his bare feet making no sound against the cement floor as he moved. 

Once Sam was fairly certain he was far enough away from Dean, that even with his flashlight shining all over the place, he wouldn't see him, he climbed up with the grace of a cat, over a few crates, pulling himself onto one of the ceilings metal beams and grabbed hold of a screen covering one end of the ventilation system he had seen leading into the room. Gripping both sides of the metal, Sam gave it a hard pull, the sound of groaning, twisting metal filled the silence before the screen popped off. Placing it on top of the metal vent, Sam crawled into it head first. 

Crawling through the pitch black ventilation system was no big deal, Sam could see perfectly fine, just like a cat in the dark of night. Keeping track of where he was, glancing down through the screen plates that lined the vent every few yards, he made his way into the room, leaping down, landing on all fours against the cement before pulling to his feet. 

Brushing off his hands and knees, Sam walked over to the door and unlocked it, pulling it open. "God, I'm good to you," he greeted Dean as he leaned against the open door jam. 

"What the..." Dean dropped his tool and grabbed the pistol out of his waistband only to find this fool grinning at him. "You fucking _trying_ to get yourself killed?" he demanded, grabbing his tools, rolling them up and stuffing them inside his jacket. "Just what the hell are you doing?" He demanded. Another time, another place, he might have found the competition fun and a challenge. Getting up, he pushed past Sam, his shoulder bumping into him. 

Sam watched Dean walk into the room, rolling his eyes as the hunter bumped into him, as if that was supposed to be a threat. "Nope, not trying to get myself killed, actually I'm _trying_ to do just the opposite, if you want to know the truth. As for what I'm doing here, I was checking things out and now, it seems, I am helping you." he frowned thoughtfully, "Or at least I thought I was." Closing the door, Sam turned, walking up behind Dean, "So, have you found anything yet?" 

"Nope." 

"Huh..."

Ignoring him, though it was hard when he was so damned large and took up so much space, Dean started to sweep the light on the ground, and also under the large work tables on which clay would get rolled out. Did this thing work here by day, or was his lair somewhere in here? He turned and found Sam in his face. "Would you fucking get out from under my feet? Christ," he walked around him muttering about tripping over a Sasquatch.

Sam grinned at Dean's back. He was in a good mood, he wasn't sure why but the beast within seemed to be content for the moment and more of Sam's true joking and fun loving self was able to poke though. "Uh, yeah sorry," he called after Dean, watching him walk around the room. "Oh, hey, there's some more water over there on the floor," Sam jutted his chin toward the puddle, "in case you... wanted to go stick your finger in it." 

"Why don't you go stick your finger in cat pee," Dean shot back. "Seriously do you want this room, cause I can start elsewhere." He was getting pissed off. No, he'd been pissed off from the moment he saw Sam, but the guy was deliberately ticking him off.  
Sam frowned., "Okay, first, that was just rude. You realize a cat’s piss is a very private thing, used to mark territory as well as expel waste? Have some class. And, second, no, I don't want this room, I've already been all over this place. This room included, why would I want to look through it again? I was just keeping you company."

"I don't need your company, but thanks," he said with frustrated sigh. Rubbing his forehead, he thought about all the places he'd nailed shape shifters. They always seemed to go underground. Grabbing his stuff, he headed back for the door and stopped near it. "Did you see any stairs, anything leading to a basement level?" he asked, only because he needed to know. This was business. He'd get it done and get the hell away from Sam.

Sam shook his head. "This is Florida, Dean. The ocean is basement level." Sam answered, waiting only until Dean walked out before climbing up on top of one of the kilns. He jumped up from there, grabbing onto the vent and pulling himself in. As he crawled through the vent, Sam's mood soured. The hunter was an asshole, why the hell he should care that Dean didn't want him around was beyond him and yet, it bothered him. Crawling faster, he let the change begin, tendons popping and snapping, bones shifting, the borrowed jumpsuit ripping and tearing from his body.

Fully shifted into a large sleek black panther, Sam ran through the ventilation shaft toward the high window, long claws tap-taping against the metal as he went. There was a space, about ten feet from the end of the ventilation shaft to clearing the window, with a loud cry, the panther ran at full speed, crouching and jumping, large body gliding through the air, easily making it to and out the window, landing on all fours on the packed earth below. With another loud cry, the ebony jungle cat ran off and blended into the night.

"What the fuck! Sam, Sam!" Dean hollered, coming back in the room and seeing it was empty. He looked up and saw the open vent that Sam must have shimmied through. He knew that's how Sam had gotten in here, and had no idea why he'd left that way. But the sounds from the vent had not been human. Then he'd seen something, a large dark shadow thing jump out of the other end of the duct and out the window. "Fuck," he cursed again as he threw his leg up and got inside the vent.

Crawling along, the flashlight moving between his hand and teeth, he shouted for Sam as best he could. His hands searched and finally touched material. Clothes. Lifting them, he saw they were torn, but felt no blood. "Sam!" His voice echoed through the metal duct, but there was no response. "Fuck..."

*

There was an ache in Dean's gut as he pulled up into the motel parking lot. He'd searched every inch of the duct, only to find more of Sam's clothes. Outside, there had been paw prints, but there had been water from the damned air-conditioning and the print hadn't been clear enough for him to know if it matched the creature that he was hunting. Deep down, he knew there was no reason to doubt that.

Dejected, he got out of the car and looked at Sam's vehicle. It hadn't been at the factory, of that he was sure. But to be doubly sure, he put his hand on the hood of the car and found it was cold. Yet another mystery, but now, he might never solve any of the mysteries presented by Sam Wesson. 

Sure he always felt bad when a person fell victim to things that walked the night, but this felt like he'd personally lost someone. That was just ridiculous. They'd seen each other a handful of times, hit it off, fucked... then he'd found out the other hunter had lied to him. Why he should feel like a part of him, or a close friend or family member was gone was beyond him. It probably had to do with why Sam had managed to make him feel cheap somehow, or maybe unworthy, that was the word.

Instead of going to his room, he went back to his car, and opened up the trunk. Rummaging, he found the booze... a nice bottle of whiskey, and slammed the trunk shut. On his way to the room, he opened the bottle and started hitting it.

*

Having returned to the motel after running out of the factory, with very little more knowledge than he'd entered with, other than the fact that Dean Winchester didn't want him around, Sam had showered. He'd gotten himself free of the mud caking his hands and feet from running through the damn water and dirt next to the factory. Then he'd walked over to the diner, grabbed a light dinner and come back. In his room, he'd been fumbling through files at his online site, a sucker hanging out of his mouth, when he remembered some photos he'd had developed and needed to scan and load up t the site. They were in the trunk of his car, dammit. 

Sighing, he walked out only to see Dean walking toward his own room next door. Pulling the sucker from his mouth, Sam diverted his gaze, hanging his head. "Just pretend I'm not here," he mumbled with a huff as he stepped off the sidewalk toward his car.

The bottle almost slipped from his hand but Dean caught it. Taking a couple breaths, he started to follow, then grabbed Sam and swung him around. "Where were you? I looked _everywhere,_ " he said in a raised voice, demanding an answer. His heart was racing with the knowledge that Sam wasn't dead, but his mind was racing with questions.

Sam frowned at him, gaze searching his face. "I was in my room. What the hell is with you? First, you want to get rid of me and now you want to know where I was? Make up your mind, man."

Dean let him go but raised his finger up in the air as he thought. "You went into the vent. Something was in there... you never came out. What happened?" He cocked his head. "I heard it... I saw the fricken thing jump out and searched every inch of the vent," he added.

Sam's brows furrowed, "I went into the air vent," he shook his head, "but I never saw a 'thing'." His gaze darted to the bottle of booze, then back to Dean. "You, uh, you sure you hadn't been," he raised a hand, making a tipping motion toward his mouth with his hand curled as if he were holding a glass. 

His nostrils flared. "I have had it up to here, with you lying to me. I found your Goddamn jumpsuit. It was torn up, now answer me. What. Happened. In there?" His eyes practically sparked with the heat of his anger as he demanded the truth. Demanded to know why he'd been put through all those fears for nothing. And why he was now being met with lies. 

Sam clenched his jaw. "I am not lying to you! I didn't see anything! It was just me in there! As for the jumpsuit, it obviously wasn't mine!" he yelled back. "What the hell do you think you saw!? Don't you think if I had been in there and something had ripped my clothes off me, I'd be torn to shreds!? Huh!?!" Sam popped the sucker back in his mouth, reaching for the hem of his tee, pulling it up and over his head, before pulling the sucker back out of his mouth. "Do you see a single scratch on me, Dean!? Do you!?" he sighed, eyes closing for a moment as he ran his free hand over his face. "Look, I know you think you saw something and okay fine if you did, but that ventilation shaft runs the entire length of that place, it was never near me." His gaze searched Dean's face, "Alright?"

Dean held his gaze, then looked down at his feet. Thought for a moment, flashing back. He was pretty certain Sam hadn't had any shoes on. He was damned certain that jumpsuit had been Sam's cause who the fuck else was in there? And he knew damned well he'd seen something jump out of that vent, had heard it. "Still playing games?" He made a face that was Sam's answer, Dean didn't believe a word.

Turning away, he started for his room. He had a lot to think about. So many thing things, little facts niggling at his brain. He just knew he wasn't going to like the answer when it came to him. He just fucking knew it. 

Sam turned, watching Dean walk off. One lie, he'd told one lie about the jumpsuit, because it was something he couldn't explain away. The rest had been the truth... from a certain point of view. He hadn't seen anything, other than himself. It had been just him in there. If something had indeed ripped his clothes off he would have marks, if he wasn't what he was, and was merely human. The ventilation shaft did run the entire length of the building, he easily could have missed seeing something, if he had just been a human and didn't have an animal's nose for scents and _nothing_ was ever near him. It was inside of him, it was him. That had been what Dean had seen. Him. So, he really hadn't lied. 

With a huff, Sam shook his head as he unlocked his car, grabbing the photos, then closed the car back up, locking it and headed for his room. 

* 

Dean drank. Heavily. And alone.

First he'd thought Sam was dead. That had somehow ripped him a new one, though he didn't have a Goddamned clue how that could be since they argued more than anything. He'd just wanted the hunter away from him when he'd seen him at the factory. And then he couldn't believe he was dead. That the thing they were hunting had got him.

And now he found Sam alive and Dean was so fucking conflicted he didn't know what to do with himself. He was relieved, of course. But the factors, the little mysteries that kept niggling at him, the questions, they just wouldn't quit in his head. He took another long pull of the whiskey, giving out an "ahhh," when it burned all the way down to his stomach.

He didn't want to think. He wouldn't think, not now, not tonight. He'd just let the liquor take the edge off, make it stop him from questioning. Eventually, he tipped his head back against the headboard, and fell asleep, cradling the bottle in his hand.

*

Sam worked on the site, even as his thoughts kept taking him back to the argument outside with Dean. How he'd seemed almost worried about him and then hurt when he'd thought that Sam was lying. Which of course was ridiculous because Dean Winchester couldn't stand his fucking guts... right? 

After staring at the same page for nearly an hour and getting nothing accomplished other than his head spinning with how much Dean confused him, Sam shut down his scanner and laptop. 

Maybe he should go over there. 

He _could_ go over there. 

Aw, hell, the beast wanted him to go over there, the mere thought of it had his body reacting. 

_He_ wanted to go over there. 

Lifting a hand he ran it though his hair with a sigh, pulling to his feet. Walking to the door, Sam prayed he wouldn't regret this discussion. If Dean started with any more questions he was going to have to leave, do his research from another area of town and avoid Winchester like the plague. However, he wanted this with the hunter, wanted to try again. 

Tugging open the door to his room, Sam stepped over to Dean's and knocked softly.

Dean lifted his head and heard the knock again. "Go away," he called out, slurring slightly and pretty much not caring who it was out there. 

Sam huffed. "Come on, Dean, open up."

He considered telling the reason he was drinking to go fuck off, then he decided telling him to his face would be better. He managed to set the bottle down on the night stand, then stumbled only a little. Pulling the door open, he opened his mouth... but forgot what he was going to say. "It's late." That was the best his hazy mind could do at the moment as he stared at Sam, trying very hard not to remember their last two encounters, though the first had gone much better than the second. 

Sam nodded as he took a step toward the hunter, his gaze darting between his eyes and his lips. "Yeah, I know," he answered softly, moving closer, one hand rising to cup the back of Dean's neck as he dipped his head, lips against Dean's throat, lips sliding in open mouthed kisses, hot breaths against sensitive flesh. "Let me in."

Dean dipped his head and started to push his tongue into the man's mouth, then recoiled back. Despite everything his body was telling him, a part of his mind still worked. "Go." He grabbed Sam's arm to keep himself steady. "You're in the wrong room. Your _forever,_ she's not here." He remembered only too well how the two of them had been going at it right here... almost right here. "Give her what I wanted," he gave a bitter smile. "I'm sure she's ... very good." See, he could be gracious, right?

Pulling his head back, Sam frowned. "My what?" a small chuckle worked out of him, "Forever?" he shook his head, brows furrowed as he made a face. "I don't think so. S'not who I want, not now, not then." Sam dipped his head again, lips against Dean's jaw line, sliding back toward his ear. "Want you."

"What, she doesn't fuck you hard enough?" Dean asked, but already he was weakening. "I don't like mind games," he said, turning his face, sliding it across Sam's, moaning as he felt heat flood his system, the kind of heat he'd only felt with Sam. He had his hands between their bodies, and wasn't yet sure if he was feeling up the other hunter, or protecting himself. "And it wasn't what you were saying earlier..."

Sam kissed his way down Dean's throat, his hand pulling away from the hunter’s neck as he raised the other, hands wrapping around Dean's wrists to pull them from between them as Sam slowly walked them back into the room until Dean's back hit the wall. Pinning the hunter’s arms against the wall at his sides, Sam continued to kiss and nip at his throat, one side and then the other. He shook his head slowly. "No mind games," he told Dean between kiss-bites. "What did I say earlier?" Sam asked, hot breath ghosting over the hunters ear, before he sucked the lobe between his lips. 

"Blow hot and cold. Want, don't want, want," Dean answered breathlessly. Wrists pinned to the wall, he only tried once to free himself, then shifted so his knee was lodged between Sam's legs. He pressed against him, groaning when he could feel Sam's arousal grinding into him. The instant Sam released his ear, Dean turned his face. "Kiss me. Goddamnit Sam, you kissed _her_ , kiss me," he demanded, rubbing his mouth against Sam's.


	3. Chapter 3

Sam pulled his head back, gazing into Dean's face, his brow furrowing in a look of deep regret before crushing his lips against Dean's, kissing him hard, though he kept Dean from being able to insert his tongue into his mouth, first with his lips, then his teeth. He tried to kiss Dean the best way that he could. Wanted nothing more than to _really_ kiss Dean, his chest aching, heart twisting, knowing that he never could. _I want to... I'm sorry._

Before Dean could yell at him for not doing it right, before he had time to tell him to get the hell out and never come back, Sam released Dean's arms. Wrapping his own arms around the hunter, he lifted him off his feet and walked them over to the bed, nearly throwing Dean back onto it and falling down on top of him, catching his weight with his hands at either side of the hunter's shoulders.

Any complaints Dean had ended with the manhandling. As Sam landed on him, hard, Dean arched up, lips parting as he looked up at the face that had been haunting him for a while now. "You're... you're fuckin' gorgeous, you know that?" He asked, reaching up and pushing Sam's bangs back. "Only reason you can... you get away with this. _Only_ one," he said, thickly. Running his hands down over the back of Sam's head and down his back, he brought his other arm around so he had both hands on the small of Sam's back, pressing him down as he lifted his hips, biting his lower lip as Sam's groin pressed against his. 

Sam thrust his hips, grinding his hard cotton covered cock against Dean's, breaths hissing in between his teeth as his eyes closed and groaned softly. Dean's proclamation had him opening his eyes and staring down into stunning greens as he slowly shook his head. "Not getting away with anything. Cursed," he answered softly, hips continuing to slowly thrust against Dean's. "You're my newest curse," Sam told him, dipping his head, open mouth working against the hunter’s throat, hot breaths panting out against his skin, soft lips slowly sliding against flesh. 

"Same," Dean answered, shoving his hands under Sam's shorts, squeezing his ass, groaning as he rocked up. "Fuck..." Need slammed into him so hard, he rolled them over, looking down into Sam's face, his hands trapped under Sam's ass. He lifted Sam up and rocked against him harder a few times, grinding to get the pressure he needed. It wasn't enough. Pulling his hands out, he shoved Sam's shirt up his body, kissing the skin he revealed, from his belly up, sometimes nipping him, sometimes dragging his teeth over him then licking him better. When he started to pull the tee up over Sam's head, for a moment, his face was covered. Dean lowered his head, and kissed Sam over the tee shirt, forcing his tongue inside Sam's mouth. If there was going to be a fight, he'd take it... but he wanted this, wanted a real kiss Goddamit, and he was going to have it.  
Sam's breaths hitched as fear slid along his veins, pooling like a rock in his gut. What if Dean could feel... But he didn't seem to be able to, or if he did, he wasn't moving away, wasn't grabbing for his gun, wasn't doing anything other than trying to engage Sam's tongue into moving against his. Arms wrapping tightly around the hunter, Sam kissed him back, a low groan tearing from his throat as he kissed him with everything he had. Sure, there might be a layer of cotton between their tongues, but Sam kissed him like there wasn't, tangling his tongue with the hunters, flicking the tip against the roof of his mouth, thrusting his tongue inside Dean's mouth and sucking on the hunter's tongue through the fabric, all the while moaning his pleasure at being able to finally kiss him. Even if it wasn't perfect, it was the best they could ask for. It was _his_ perfect.

Groaning, Dean cupped Sam's face as he moved his mouth over the other hunter's. He didn't understand why Sam kept refusing him, but this was better than nothing... his chance to show Sam what they were missing, and he pulled out all stops. Even stinking drunk, he was a good kisser, and he knew it. Though the material acted as a barrier, he was still able to thrust and twist his tongue around Sam's, to tongue fuck his mouth until they were kissing through the soaked material and he hardly noticed it anymore.

By the time he lifted up and pulled the shirt away, he was breathing hard, and aching to kiss Sam for real. This time, though, he kissed the corner of Sam's mouth, then slipped along his jaw line to his ear. "So fucking good," he whispered hotly, his hands exploring Sam's bare flesh, moving up and down his sides, his thumbs flicking over his nipples each time his hands were close to them. 

Sam's breaths panted out, eyes squeezing closed as he swallowed hard, nodding his agreement., "Oh God, yeah..." he told him softly, voice breathless. His back arched slightly into Dean's touch, face flushing with the heat of his desire. 

Dean started to crawl down Sam's body, kissing a trail down the center of his chest, sucking on his belly button, then tongue fucking it until he felt Sam's stomach tense under him. He sucked the sensitive flesh right below his belly button, then caught the waistband of Sam's shorts with his teeth and started to drag it down.

Sam's gaze never left Dean as he worked his way down his body, muscles tensing, flexing, rippling under the hunter's mouth and touches. Breaths panting out, Sam writhed on the bed, his hands running over the hunter’s shoulders, fingers threading through short soft hair. "Mmm," Sam softly moaned, hips lifting up off the bed to allow Dean to remove his boxers, cock achingly hard, need and want making him throb for the hunter, _his_ hunter. Even as the thought ran through Sam's mind, some part of his heart mourned the impossibility of it.

Letting the material slip out from between his teeth, Dean pulled the shorts the rest of the way off Sam and let his eyes roam over every inch of his beautiful body, not hiding his own intense reactions and building needs. He pulled his own shirt off and tossed it on the bed, then spread Sam's legs apart, and kissed his way up first on thigh, then the other. 

Sam started to lick his lips, gaze laser focused on Dean, only to stop himself, lips pressed tightly down against the tip of his tongue, not wanting Dean to see the millions of tiny rough bumps. His gaze dropped to Dean's hands on his legs, his own thighs as Dean lowered his mouth down against his fevered flesh, Sam moaned softly, eyes slipping closed, tongue pulling back into his mouth as his lips parted on a breath of air. 

Closing his hand around Sam's shaft, Dean pushed it to the side, and held it against his body, while skimming his mouth up higher, mapping the planes and ridges of his belly and sides. He licked him, running his wet tongue along Sam's abs, then down the length of his hip, toward where he was holding Sam's pulsing cock securely against his body. 

Writhing against the bed under Dean's exploring mouth, the sensation of soft full lips tickling across his flesh had Sam's muscles tensing, rippling, jumping in response. Soft moans and groans tumbled from his parted lips, head rolling on the pillow as his hands reached for Dean, fingers threading through his short cropped hair. He hissed in a breath through his teeth, eyes fluttering open as his back arched into the touch of Dean's tongue against his flesh, desire to do the same to Dean was pulling at him. He needed to lick Dean, to taste every inch of his body. "Oh God..."

Dean licked Sam's shaft through his fingers, sucking between them, knowing Sam must be dying by now... wanting him to take his dick into his mouth. He licked again, and again, smiling against his rock hard cock, before lifting up and finally bringing Sam's tip up to his mouth. Gaze locked with Sam's, he sucked on it, enjoying his taste and feel, circling his tongue around the ridge of his crown and just watching Sam. His own cock was getting painfully hard. He couldn't wait to fuck Sam's mouth later, just like he was taking Sam's cock in his now. 

Sam writhed against the bed, wiggling against it, like a cat rubbing himself against a scratching post, low growled-purrs and groans breaking from his throat, eyes squeezed closed, hands gripping and releasing the sheets, kneading them as his cock twitched and pulsed.

Pulling off, Dean started to lick Sam's shaft, pressing his tongue hard against it, giving him as much pressure as he could. His hand was at the base of Sam's cock, his thumb moving up and down from the base to his sack, sometimes caressing his balls. He felt Sam's skin tighten as his cock grew impossibly harder. Licking him one last time, he went back to his crown, teasing him, fucking his slit with his tongue, then opening his mouth in invitation. 

Pupils elongated behind closed eyelids as Sam writhed, purred moans tumbling from his lips, hips gyrating as his body moved against the bed with cat-like limberness. Peering up at Dean through lowered lids as he felt him pull back, his tongue leaving the head of his throbbing cock, Sam thrust his hips, hand moving to the back of the hunter's head, fingers tangling in the short strands of his hand, kneading against his skull as he moaned, breaths panting out through parted lips. "Mm, yeah, don't stop..." 

Sam's head thrashed against the pillow, hips thrusting harder, moving his cock into the hunter's mouth faster, digits tangled in Dean's hair slowly curling into a fist. Muscles tensing, Sam's neck arched back, face flushing as he strained, balls drawing up tightly to his body. "Nuaagh..." 

With quick movements, Sam pulled up, pushing Dean back against the mattress and kneeling over him, one hand moving to wrap around his own cock as he aimed it at Dean's chest, stroking himself in quick sure motions. Tilting his head back, Sam sucked his bottom lip into his mouth, eyes squeezed tightly closed, a deep growl tearing from his throat as the first rope of cum shot from his cock, hitting Dean's chest. Marking him. Gasping in a breath as his lips parted it actually dawned on the part of Sam that was still human exactly what he was doing. What the beast as doing. Claiming Dean, marking him as his own. Oh God... 

No one was more surprised than Dean by their sudden change of positions. Eyes wide, he watched Sam get himself off and had to wonder if he liked it only one way or something. Then Sam was shooting all over him. "Mouth... here..." Dean pointed, though he could see Sam had his eyes closed. Another hot rope of cum struck him, spraying over his stomach. Reaching for Sam's free hand, he pulled it over the sticky mess on his body,, then brought it to his mouth and started to lick it off Sam's fingers when he felt Sam tense again. "Aww f..." He quickly put his own hand in front of his face, protecting himself from most of the spray, then he pulled Sam down over him and raised his head to kiss him. When Sam turned slightly and made his mouth inaccessible, Dean gave a wry smile. "That good, huh?"

Lips parted as he panted his breaths, Sam ignored the sarcasm and gave a small nod before he lowered his head, rubbing his face against Dean's like a cat, first one side then the other, eyes still closed. He nuzzled against Dean's throat, head butting him gently, hot breaths panting out, hands sliding along the hunters sides, his arms, hands grasping hands, fingers threading together as Sam pulled them in closer, rubbing his face against Dean's once more, a low vibrating moan like a purr sounding deep in Sam's throat.

First Dean thought Sam was going to kiss him, but each time he tried to chase Sam's lips, it was impossible. Sam was rubbing against him, all over. Not just his body, but using his face, his hands, kneading him, like he'd kneaded his scalp earlier. Dean tried to regain control of his breathing as these new... different sensations washed over him. Yeah, he'd give the guy a ten for originality. When Sam finally settled down over him, Dean chuckled. "Can't wait for you to make that sound with my cock in your mouth," he lifted his hips and rubbed his erection against Sam's him, imagining how good the vibration would feel. "Who knew having sex with you is like a two-fer." He chuckled, squeezing the fingers threaded through his, "sex and a massage."

Pulling back his head back, eyes slowly blinking open, pupils once more round, Sam gave a weak smile. "Heh," leaned in, placing a chaste kiss at the corner of Dean's lips, quickly pulling back again,. "Who knew, eh?" he mumbled softly. It wasn't as if he actually went around doing _that_ all the time. That one was new, even for him. 

Sliding his fingers out from being laced with Dean's, Sam sat up, moving back to unfasten the hunter's jeans, tugging the button free and getting the zipper. Swinging his leg around so he knelt next to him, Sam tucked his thumbs into the waistband of Dean's jeans and started to pull them down. "Lift up for me," Sam mumbled, thinking how much easier this would be if he didn't have to worry about being shot later and he could just tear the damn thing off. 

Pulling the hunters jeans and boxers off in one swift tug, he tossed them down onto the floor. His gaze cut toward the pillows and he jutted his chin in that direction for Dean to move up on the bed. Spreading Dean's legs wide, he kneeled between them and lowered his head. Sam started trailing open mouthed kisses across Dean's chest, lips gripping first one nipple, nipping at it with his teeth, then moving to the other to do the same, working his way down and across his abs, face rubbing against the hunter's flesh at different points along the way as if nuzzling. Sam knew what this was, it was the jungle cat inside, once again marking _his_ territory. Wouldn't the hunter be surprised to find out that he now, as far as the animal kingdom was concerned, wore a big **OWNED** sign across his entire body. 

Making his way down to Dean's groin, Sam ran his face over his cock and against his balls, hot breaths fanning sensitive flesh, teeth nipping small amounts of the skin where Dean's thighs and groin met between his front teeth, a purr-like growl tearing from Sam's throat. _Mine._

Soft sounds broke from Dean as Sam seemed to make love to practically every inch of him with his entire face. The sensation of being rubbed by someone's mouth, hot breaths, nose and cheeks was novel and drew intense reactions from him. His fingers clenched around a pillow on one side, and the sheets on the other as Sam teased his already very sensitive skin, nipping him unexpectedly every once in a while and causing him to tense suddenly and then release. "Oh yeah..." he nodded with approval, his cock filling and getting impossibly harder. He sucked his breath in audibly when he felt Sam's mouth slip slide near his cock.

Eyes wide, watching Sam intently, he raised his hips. "Please..." 

Sam's gaze darted up to Dean's face, lips parted, eyes passion glazed and unfocused, the pupils starting to expand, then contract, as if the cat within also knew the dangers. Turning his head, Sam rubbed his face along the length of Dean's cock, base to tip, teeth nipping at the sensitive head gently, before turning his head and sliding his face back down, hot breaths panting over the sensitive flesh. 

Sam wrapped his hand around Dean's cock, pumping him slowly, as he pulled back further along Dean's body, rubbing his face against the hunter's balls as he stroked his length, slow long pulls of Dean's cock, thumb ghosting over the tip, hot breaths against his balls and thighs, soft lips sliding against the skin of his inner thighs.  
The teasing had Dean tied up in knots so bad that his heels were digging into the mattress as he pushed up slightly, his thigh muscles straining and shifting against Sam's face. A sheen of sweat coated him as he accepted the torture, waiting, needing more, wondering how much more he could take before he demanded it. Then Sam's hand curled around him, and Dean was in heaven.

He threw his head back, his upper teeth cutting into his bottom lip as waves of pleasure crashed over him. "Yeah... more," he said, finding it hard to concentrate, especially with the unpredictable ways Sam touched him, mouthing him here and there. The way Sam was rubbing his face against his balls was driving him nuts. "So hot..." he said, not recognizing his voice. "More... harder," he demanded, starting to fuck into Sam's fist, loving how large his hand was, how much of him it covered. 

Sam started to move his hand faster, stroking the hunter's pulsing slippery cock harder, his own breaths coming a little faster as if he were the one being jerked off. Pulling his head up slightly, Sam gazed up at Dean's face briefly, eyes a brilliant green, pupils elongated vertically, cat-like. Darting his gaze away before the hunter had a chance to notice, Sam lowered his head again, rubbing his face against Dean's groin, deep purring sounds breaking from his throat. 

Dean cocked his head, then looked at the light, and back at Sam. Before he could formulate his thoughts the vibrations against his cock had him gasping for air. "Oh... my God," he groaned. "What are you doing to me... oh God..." How did he do that, make his throat vibrate like some opera singer? Sitting up suddenly, he reached down and cupping Sam's head, pushed it down so that his throat slid against his cock harder. "Oh yeah..." He thought he'd been imagining it, but he hadn't... it felt incredible. His cock was aching so bad, he needed to come. "Want to come inside you," he said, nudging his cock against Sam's lips. 

Pulling his head up slowly, Sam gave a small nod, leaning in he ran his face against the side of Dean, before pulling away, crawling, muscles rippling as he moved gracefully to the center of the bed. He hung his head, raising his ass in the air a little higher, like a cat as he waited for Dean to come over, his own cock once again hard and aching, hung between his spread legs, arching upward toward his stomach.

"Holy..." Watching him move, Dean almost came right there. He pressed his middle finger into the base of his cock and held his breath, still watching Sam, then leaning forward and kissing his ass before he crawled to the edge of the bed. Leaning down, he grabbed his wallet out of his jeans and the lube off the nightstand. Pulling a tinfoil out of the wallet, he tore it open. 

Crawling up behind Sam, he started to prepare him. Remembering how tight Sam had been, he groaned and knew he would have to take more time, be sure. "Keep waving your ass like that and I am not gonna be able to wait," he practically snapped, when Sam started to fuck back against his fingers. Droplets of sweat fell from his forehead as he forced himself to wait, pushing more lube inside Sam.

When he thought Sam was opened up as much as he could be, he pulled his fingers out and wiped them with a tee shirt, then quickly put the condom on. "Now you can wave your ass," he said, smacking Sam's ass cheek then bending over him, fitting his body to Sam's. He started to thrust, his cock sliding and hitting Sam's sack, over and over as he kissed the guy's back, and throat. "Need to fuck you hard," he whispered against his ear. "Can you take it?" he asked, still torturing himself with the light pressure against Sam's balls.

Sam's lips parted on a gasped groan, back arching as he pressed back against Dean's hips gyrating against him. He ground back against the hunter, low moans breaking from his throat as he slowly pulled his head up. "Mm, yeah... fuck me hard," Sam panted softly, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth. Shifting his weight, Sam pulled a hand up from the mattress to wrap around his cock, stroking himself slowly as he ground back against Dean. "Want it, want you..."

Just the words had Dean groaning against Sam's ear as he aligned his throbbing erection, his sensitive tip brushing over Sam's hole. He pushed a little, the tip of his cock penetrating Sam's hole. Tight. Just like he remembered. "Take me, all of me," he practically growled, thrusting hard, eyes closing as he buried himself completely inside Sam's tight heat. Time stopped. Fire inched through his veins, had him whispering, saying things... telling Sam how good he felt, how perfect they fit, how much he needed this... him. "God.. baby... you ready?" Even as he asked, he gripped Sam's hip, pulled half way out and the thrust again, hard, grinding his hips against Sam's ass as if he couldn't get close enough, deep enough. "So good." 

Sam bit down on his lip, eyes squeezing closed as his lover impaled him with his hard cock, stretching him open as wide as he was sure he could go, low groans and soft moans tearing from his throat as he pushed back against Dean's cock and slid his hand faster on his own aching erection. Full, he felt so fucking full, could feel every inch of Dean's cock buried so deep inside of him, the beast within making him throw his head back, lips parting, though he managed to stifle the near jungle cat cry that bubbled up in his throat, muscles flexing, clenching, face flushed with passion.

Sam's inner walls clenched around him, and all Dean could think of was he needed this man... needed him now...would have him. Moaning wantonly against Sam's throat, he started to fuck him, moving harder and harder with each thrust, faster... demanding Sam keep up with him. It was so good, he could barely think. He had his mouth pressed against Sam's throat and was sucking on his flesh so hard, he knew he'd leave a bruise... wanted to. 

Dean's dick was so hard it hurt, it fucking ached and throbbed deep inside his lover. More... he needed, wanted more. Curling and arm under Sam and hooking it over his shoulder, he started to pull him back each time he thrust forward, a groan leaving him as he realized this was what he needed. He fucked harder, having the leverage he needed now, grunting and groaning as the mattress squeaked under them. "Oh yeah... that's it... that's it ..." he rasped, never allowing more than the slightest space between them. 

Sam groan-growled each time Dean thrust hard into him, teeth clenched together, eyes squeezed tightly shut. He pushed back against the hunter's cock with each thrust, as if he too needed, wanted more, couldn't get enough of his lover, his hunter, his Dean. His hand moved faster, long hard pulls along his weeping cock, flushed as red as his face. Sweat dotted Sam's brow, ran down from his temples into his sideburns, lips parted his breaths panted out hard and heavy, muscles rippling, clenching and flexing with every movement. Hips gyrating as he ground back against his lovers cock, low growls ripping from his throat, his eyes opening, brilliant green with long vertical pupils, cat eyes, passion glazed and unfocused. 

They moved as one, in perfect tempo, the sounds Sam made counterpointing Dean's groans. Sam was riding his cock as much as Dean was riding Sam's ass, hard. Dean's muscles strained and burned with the effort, but nothing could stop him from fucking harder and harder as the pressure built inside him. His balls felt so Goddamn full and tight, he knew he was close, "Sam..." It was all the warning he gave before his entire body stiffened at once. Arching, he slammed into Sam again, his mouth seeking Sam's and then biting his shoulder in sheer frustration as he ground his hips against Sam's ass and hollered his name.  
Sam groaned as his fisted hand moved faster along his length, pushing back against Dean's cock. As Dean groaned his name, Sam's own balls drew up, muscles tensing, clenching. Pulling up slightly, knees adjusting to hold himself up better, Sam pulled his free hand from the bed, reaching back to grab Dean's hand that was on his hip, jerking it forward and around Sam's body to hold near his pulsing cock as he stroked it harder in his own fist, with another few pulls, Sam started to cum, thick jets of spunk squirting out onto Dean's hand that Sam held before his cock. Marking him yet again as his orgasm ripped through him, head tilting back, lips parting a near cat-like cry ripping from his throat.

At first, Dean though Sam wanted him to jerk him off. He was still shooting his load inside Sam's ass and was a little fuzzy about what was happening, but when Sam just shot his own load into his hand, he understood. So dirty, but beautiful. "Kinky," he said, wiping his hand on Sam's stomach, still fucking him very slowly now. "Who knew... so fucking kinky... with all that... rubbing and.. coming all over..." he was really thinking out loud, he'd never been with anyone quite like Sam. "The mouth thing... is that like ... denial or something?" 

Sam slowly released his own cock, letting his hands fall back down onto the bed, spent and sleepy. "Hm? No, just-" he yawned, slowly lowering his body onto the mattress and stretching, muscles rippling. "Tired now," Sam mumbled softly as he closed his eyes. 

"Oh." Pulling the wet condom off, Dean tossed it into the wastepaper basket next to the bed, then used a tee shirt to clean Sam's cum off both of them. Collapsing next to him, he kissed his throat. The scent of sex clung to Sam, and Dean breathed it in, smiling smugly. "You must be a vampire." Putting an arm around Sam and spooning behind him, he nuzzled his throat. "Keep coming over at odd hours demanding sex." 

Sam frowned sleepily, "Not vampire," he shook his head. Sam's eyes popped open wide suddenly as he thought about that, about what he really _was_ , if he stayed here... what if he fuckin' purred? Pulling away from Dean, Sam started to sit up. "I should go."

"No," Dean got up on his elbows and stared at him. "What is it with you and..." he swept his hand toward the door, a frown marring his face. "Just what do you think will happen if you stayed? I mean other than maybe another round?" 

Sam frowned, "I told you," his brows furrowed, "you might not like the sounds I make when I sleep." He thought about the last time they had argued, when Dean had told him that he'd made the hunter feel cheap. That was definitely _not_ something he wanted to do. With a sigh, Sam slowly lowered back down against the mattress. "Okay, but if I - I make noises, just don't shoot me for it, okay?" he forced a teasing smile, when he was really dead serious.

Throwing his arm around Sam again, he snuggled close. "I like the noises you make." Chuckling, he closed his eyes, glad that they hadn't parted on another argument. "G'nite, Sammy."

*

Bright light had Dean opening his eyes and trying to stretch. At first, he couldn't tell why he was having trouble moving, but he did feel warmth on his stomach and legs. There was also a soft sound, like the whirl of machinery or purr. Looking down his own body, he saw Sam curled up over his stomach, draping off him, his forehead touching the mattress. The sound... it was coming from him, and wasn't at all like snoring. Blinking, Dean looked at the alarm clock. It was almost eleven. He hasn't slept like this since... since he couldn't remember. 

The thought of getting up occurred to him, but somehow he knew if he closed his eyes, he'd fall back asleep. Running his hand through Sam's hair, petting him, he did just that. It was weird, that purring sound grew louder. Dean's lips quirked, like he wanted to tease. Only the combination of that sound and Sam's body heat had him sleepy all over again, and he didn't fight it.

* * *

It was noon when he woke, when they both did. Since Dean didn't do 'awkward,' he refused to let Sam withdraw or runaway quickly. It didn't take much to persuade him to take a shower together, though there wasn't that much room. There was also a little touching, and then Sam had gone to his own room to get fresh clothes.

Dean went across the street to the diner. Sam had said 'maybe.' Maybe he'd meet up, maybe he wouldn't. It was weird how much he'd hoped Sam would come. Usually he was glad when whoever he slept with didn't make a big deal and split off. Somehow though, weird as Sam was, Dean wanted to get to know him better. Actually, maybe he wanted to get to know him better exactly because of that... the mystery.

Just as he started to dwell on the things he'd been wondering about when he'd been drinking, the door opened, and Sam came in wearing a dazzling smile, one that Dean couldn't resist returning. Over lunch, they'd talked about a lot of things, some dealing with hunting, but a lot dealing with their backgrounds. Really, Dean wasn't one to give too much information about himself but Sam seemed to know how to work him. Or maybe deep down he realized if he didn't share some of himself, Sam would clam up too and he really wanted to know about the other hunter.

At some point, Dean went on about that fucking asshole that ran UnexplainabeOrigions.com again. Apparently the guy was charging extra for references he had translated. When Sam laughed at him and asked why he didn't just get his information elsewhere, Dean gave him a dark look. "Because he knows what he's talking about, and when he is 'guessing'... he tells you that too." The guy was accurate when he said something was fact, fiction or speculation, he had to give him that. "But if I ever meet him, I'm definitely kicking his ass... the way he fucking nickels and dimes. He's practically stealing my hard earned money." He raised a brow at Sam's continued amusement.

They each paid for their own meal, though Dean would have gotten the whole tab. When they got to the motel parking lot, Sam started to head for his own car. After he reached it, Dean called out to him. "Dude... you don't snore. You sort of...." He tried to emulate the noise that seemed to have helped him sleep, grinned, and pulled his own car door open. He was still grinning long after he slid into the driver's seat and started heading out of the lot.

Sam stood staring, frozen in the same spot, his hand still on his car door handle. Was Dean Winchester playing dumb with him on purpose or had he really not just figured out that what they sound was, even the piss poor job Dean had done of mocking it was _purring_. He'd been afraid that would happen, the purring, had wanted to leave to avoid having the hunter hear it, but now that he had heard, did really really not know what the sound was? Not that it was an everyday thing to think that the guy whose brains you just fucked out was part jungle cat, but that was beside the point. 

Blinking slowly, Sam tore his gaze away from the now empty spot where Dean's car had been and looked down at his own. He couldn't believe it, didn't know what to make of it, but the fact that there wasn't a bullet hole in his skull right then, had Sam grinning as he tugged open his car door and slid behind the wheel. 

* * * 

There was still one thing about his own behavior with Dean that had Sam wondering what the hell was going on. How he had come on him, not just once but each time, marking him. _Mine._ Not to mention the near fascination he'd had with simply rubbing his face against Dean... everywhere. Had needed it, on a base level, felt it deep in his heart. 

No friggin' way he was falling in love with a hunter. That would be like... like... a mouse falling in love with a tom cat. Stupid and masochistic and just... no, that wasn't it. It was something else, had to be. 

Sitting in front of his lap top, Sam scoured the one place _he_ turned to for information. The library of one Robert Singer. The man had more books on the strange and unexplainable than any human being had the right to. If he was going to find an answer, it would be there. Sam just thanked God, or whatever being was out there looking after werepanthers or photographers, that his uncle knew the Singer guy so there was never any big questions asked about Sam was nosing through his online files. 

_Why does a cat push its head against you? This is what is called a "head butts. This is a cat's way of showing affection. Some cats will turn their head, and push it against a human (or another cat). Why does your cat rub up against you? Cats have scent glands along the tail, on each side of their head, on their lips, base of their tail, chin, near their sex organs, and between their front paws. They use these glands to scent -mark their territory. When the cat rubs you, he is marking you with his scent, claiming you as "his." He is also picking up your scent. A Cat rubs up against furniture or doorways for the same reason - to mark the item as "his"._

Sam huffed, great. So he really had claimed the hunter as _his_. Lifting a hand, Sam ran it though his hair. Well, it wasn't like he really thought Dean was going to go off looking to score with another member of the animal kingdom, so it wasn't so bad so far really. After all, it didn't say that he, himself had to be in love with the subject. Hell, Dean could have been a nice sofa according to this. That thought had Sam frowning, he didn't really want to think about himself doing all that shit with a piece of furniture. 

_Why does your cat take a small bite on your arm or cheek and hold on for a few seconds? Some cats, when they are very happy and feeling extremely affectionate, will gently take a piece of human skin between their teeth and hold it for a few seconds. It is the feline equivalent of kissing._

Sam smiled at the laptop screen. "See? I did kiss you. You just weren't paying attention," he mumbled scrolling farther down the page. 

_When a cat rubs against you, it is scenting you to let all of the other cats know that you belong to him. Rub heads with the cat to express your love in return._

"I somehow don't see Dean rubbing his head on me to tell me he lo-" Sam's mumbled words trailed off as he frowned at the screen. _Love?_ Was he really falling in love with the hunter? Was his first instinct right about that? Was that what this was? Sam's chest ached as he thought about it. _No, can't be. It can't._

_When a cat marks or 'sprays' an object or individual it is marking that thing as 'his' for all time. When it is another cat or in the rare instances of werecats, a human, this is the sign of the creature marking its perfect mate. The one it will be with for the rest of its life. It will die to protect them, live for them. Just as the cat in the wild reacts to its mate, this human is now the werecats family and they will not want anyone else. The cat inside has made up its mind, it has chosen. Hopefully the poor bastard and the cat agree or the human part of the cat is gonna be in for some hell on earth._

Sam sat staring at the screen. The usual response to Bobby's no nonsense words dying on his tongue as the meaning of them slowly sank in. Dean was his mate, the only one. For all time. He swallowed hard, Adam's apple bobbing. What was he gonna do? This wasn't exactly news you just up and told someone and definitely _not_ a hunter. 

He had to stay the hell away from Dean. Steer clear of him and maybe, just maybe Sam could find them a way out of this mess. He just hoped he didn't accidently see Dean go off with some girl in between now and the time he got this sorted out. Sam already knew how temperamental the jungle cat could be, he didn't want to think about what it would do if it saw something of 'his' being touched. 

_Dammit!_

* * *

After taking care of his errands and meeting up with a source, Dean went back to the motel room. He saw Sam's car was in the lot so he went and knocked on his door to see if the guy wanted to go hunting with him. Really, he wanted the company... Sam's. When the door didn't open, he glanced across the street and thought he might be out eating.

About an hour and half later, he emerged, freshly showered, and knocked on Sam's door again. This time he practically pounded, though he knew there was no way the hunter was asleep, they'd slept away half the damned day. Cursing when the door didn't open, the only thing Dean could think of was that Sam was out on foot or had been picked up to go somewhere with someone. 

Hours later, he returned from the club scene... so glad to get away from the ear drum busting music. Through a crack in the curtain, he could see a light on in Sam's room. He knocked again. "Sam, you in there? Sam? Where the hell are you?" Disappointed, he went into his own room. 

In the morning, when Dean walked out of his room, he was damned grumpy. He blamed it on all the sleep he'd gotten yesterday, but deep down, he knew... if Sam had been with him, he'd have slept like a baby again. His gaze flicked to the spot on the lot where Sam's car was parked yesterday. It was no longer there. His mood darkened that much more as he stormed off with the knowledge Sam had been in the room last night.

That night, once again, there was no Sam. Dean phoned him, and got his voice mail. Twice. Once before he left on his hunt, the second time when he was sitting and watching people from a bar. He'd seen a couple dancing, their foreheads touching, and it had made him think of Sam. Yearn for him, like he never had for anyone else. He usually had cravings and itches, and they didn't last long, not like this.

As he drank, he tried to tell himself the sex had been mind-blowing, and strange... that was why he couldn't get the dark haired hunter out of his head. But it wasn't his body he was thinking of right now, it was that soft, gentle smile and the clear look in his eyes. He just... he didn't have the jaded air of your usual hunter, and yet Dean could be himself, could talk with him about hunting. He missed him. It had only been two days and he fucking missed him.

The next morning, he'd just opened the door of his room when Sam was getting into his car. Dean shouted to him, knew Sam had to have heard, but watched as the guy drove away. Dean's gut tightened. He felt a little sick, a little unsure. He felt like he'd lost a close friend, and he didn't even know what it was over.

*

It was the fifth club Dean had walked into that night. He'd chatted up the bar tender and given her a couple good tips. Now it was time to work it. "So, I hear you have things that can be ordered off the menu," he said, making eye contact with her when she came to pour him another whiskey.

"Oh yeah?" She gave him a sexy smile. "What are you lookin' to order? I get off at two."

"Do you," he grinned at her. "You got any dezire?" He could see she was going to give him a smart answer, so he pulled some cash out of his wallet and pushed it across the bar, his palm still on it. "The _other_ kind."

"Mind if I ask who told you that you could order off-menu?"

"Guy named Bill, but I'm sure that wasn't his name. Come on, I'm just looking for a good time here. Can't find the shit anywhere." 

She leaned across the bar. "Roofies, ecstasy... that I can do you for, dezire..." she shook her head. "Try Ruby's." Slapping her own hand on the cash, she pulled it out from under his palm, and stashed it in her bra, giving him a nice glimpse of her assets. "Two o'clock, parking lot." Flashing him a grin, she walked down the length of the bar to serve others.

*

Between hunting down the elusive creature that continued to kill people for no apparent reason by day and then going to stupid ass clubs at night, Sam hadn't had any time to deal with his own problems with Dean. He missed him, that much he knew. Missed him bad, like he'd lost a family member or a lover he had been with for years. Just thinking about Dean made his gut clench and his chest ache, so when he heard the hunters voice not three seats behind his booth near the bar, Sam tensed, peering over the top of the menu, he'd been toying with since he walked in the door.  
Before he realized what he was doing, Sam found himself not only walking over to Dean, but taking the empty seat next to him, glittering green eyes narrowed and flashing at the bartender, before he tore his gaze away to look over at Dean. "Since when do you do drugs?"

Dean turned bodily toward Sam, gaze locking with the guy's. He cocked his head, struggling not to allow his raging emotions to rule him. "Did I do something to... I dunno, piss you off?" he demanded, struggling to find an answer.  
Sam's brow furrowed as he frowned, tearing his gaze from Dean's, he shook his head. "No," he glanced back over at Dean. "it's not you, it's me." _It's that this panther I got living inside me that's got you marked as his, forever... and I kinda agree and yeah, how fucked up is that?_ Sam hung his head. "Totally me," he affirmed softly. 

"Okay then." Dean couldn't hide the bitter tinge to his voice. "How're we doing with the hot wings, sweetheart?"

The waitress promised it would be here in a few minutes and walked on by him. 

Sam lifted his head a little, his gaze sliding to Dean from the corner of his eye. "Sweetheart?" he huffed and shook his head. "Might want to be a little more selective on who you call by pet names," Sam pulled to his feet, "at least until I leave town."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Dean answered, looking up at him. "Or why you came over. Clearly you're not _interested._ " He was more sure than ever now, that Sam had been in his room the times his car had been there but he wouldn't open the door. But why? And why the fuck did it feel like a knife was twisting in his gut?

Sam's eyes narrowed. "I'm not?" he huffed. "Funny, I thought that was the whole reason I was putting myself through hell," he gave a nod, "thanks for setting me straight." Raising a hand he ran it through his hair in exasperation, as he turned to walk away. 

"I've been called a lot of things, but _hell_ isn't one of them," Dean shot back, watching Sam walk away in his uniquely graceful way. Fuck. What he wanted was to grab him and shake the truth out of him. Just what the hell was going on? Why was he avoiding him, anyway? And what had he meant about the sweetheart comment?

* 

Sam sat on the curb in front of his motel room door, watching as the mint condition shiny black Impala pulled into the lot, parking next to his own car. Pulling to his feet, Sam watched Dean through the car windows, if he'd have shifted, he knew his tail would be twitching, it was the kind of mood he was in. Not quite pissed, but irritated, knowing that others had bumped up against and touched what was his and the jungle cat's alone. 

Brilliant green cat-like slightly slanted eyes narrowed as Sam watched the driver side door open. Without a word, Sam started over to the car, reaching it just as Dean had pulled from behind the wheel, one hand slapping the door closed after Dean, Sam grabbed the hunter with the other, spinning him around and nearly slamming him up against the side of his own car. With the hunters face turned away from him, Sam didn't bother fighting the change in his pupils as he dipped his head, rubbing his face against the back of Dean's head and neck, over his shoulders, pinning the hunter against the car with his body.

Alright, he'd had a little to drink, but he wasn't drunk. Definitely not drunk. It was the strangest sensation, to be stroked and petted by someone's face. If Dean could get past the _weird_ , it was kinda erotic. Both hands flat on the roof top of the Impala, he leaned back slightly, wondering how long this was going to go on. He gave it another moment, then spoke. "In some countries... it's easier to just kiss."

Sam moaned softly, fighting the desire to fucking wash every inch of Dean with his tongue. That would go over like a lead zeppelin. Instead Sam ran his face in long drags, forehead to chin along Dean's neck and shoulders, lips parted, hot breaths panting over slivers of skin that showed from under the hunter's clothes. Sam's hands sliding over Dean's body, around the front of him, across his chest, down his stomach, cupping his groin, grabbing his hips to pull him back harder up against Sam's frame as he continued to re-mark him. "Mine," Sam panted out softly, warm breath fanning Dean's ear.

Dean gave a strangled cry. "Dude, you're getting me all worked up in the parking lot." Despite his weak protest, he was leaning into Sam, moaning when the guy squeezed him, rubbing right back against him, against Sam's hardening cock grinding against his ass. It wasn't just the overtly sexy touches that were getting to him. The way Sam's hands roved over his chest, almost as possessively as the way he was whispering _Mine_ had Dean sucking his breath in, feeling strangely like this was right, it was home. Fuck, it was that stupid yearning again. 

"Sam?" he asked, trying to turn, but finding he was trapped against the car. He felt Sam run his knee up and down the side of his leg, then between his legs. "Oh God, what are you doing to me?" he asked, biting his lower lip, then turning his head and nuzzling Sam's throat. "What do you want from me... I don't even know."

 _Everything!_ That was the cat's answer, Sam's was to reach down between Dean and the car to the fastenings of the hunter's jeans. Nimble digits made quick work opening it up then wrapping one arm around Dean's waist, Sam reached between them for the fastenings of his own pants as he continued to rub his head and face over as many areas of Dean as he could reach, breaths parting out between parted lips, one leg sliding up and down the inside of Dean's, knee pressing against his groin. 

Once Sam had his own jeans unfastened, he switched arms around Dean's waist, reaching for the backdoor handle of the impala. Pulling the car door open, Sam push pulled Dean to it, nearly shoving him inside the car so that he was laying on his back in the seat. Pulling first his own cock out and then Dean's, Sam leaned over the hunter. He pulled open his over-shirt, uncaring that a few of the buttons were fastened, the tiny pearl fastenings raining down onto the floor board of the car. He shoved Dean's t-shirt up to his chin, then reached down, wrapping one large hand around both their cocks and began to stroke them. 

Again with the manhandling, but Dean wasn't complaining. Not other than his room was only a few feet away, but Sam was acting like he hadn't seen him in forever. Well... they hadn't seen each other in several days but this was like Sam was starved for him. He tried to formulate a question, but Sam's hand felt so damned good over him, pressing his cock against Sam's, stroking, sending heat spiraling through him. Dean was lifting his hips, fucking into Sam's fist and reaching for him... hands running over his muscled chest and shoulders, then down, from his ribs to his hips and thighs. He felt so damned good under his palms, so firm, not an ounce of fat under skin stretched taut... so damned sleek. Writhing and touching Sam, small moans broke from the back of Dean's throat. "Yeah... oh yeah... closer," he muttered, half sitting to reach and cupping Sam's ass, squeezing. 

Leaning in further, Sam's eyes were narrow slits of green as he gazed down at the hunter, his hand stroking them both as he thrust his cock into his hand and made it slide against Dean's. He dipped his head, nearly 'head-butting' against Dean's shoulder, rubbing his face against him, low moaned purrs tearing from deep in Sam's throat. 

Sam turned his head, parted lips panting hot breaths against Dean's neck before he leaned in, teeth nipping a small amount of skin of Dean's throat and holding as he pumped their cocks faster, eyes squeezing closed, low deep groans sounding in his throat.

"Oh God... fuck..." Dean's labored breaths grew louder, mixing with Sam's. He fucked harder into his lover's fist, then started to turn his head, but found Sam had his skin caught between his teeth. Moving his hand between their faces, he stroked Sam's cheek and made him release it, then immediately sought his mouth out with his own. He kept his tongue to himself, knowing another rejection was not something he could handle, but he kissed the hell out of Sam, crushing their mouths together, sucking his lip into his own mouth, murmuring about how much he'd needed him last night and the night before that.

His balls started to draw up against his body. "Sam," he started to buck up, "Sam... gonna come," he desperately started to push Sam's hand off him or he was gonna come all over him in the car like this. Fighting hard to keep his control, he bit down on his lower lip as he tried to shove Sam away again. "Nghhh," he groaned as he started to climax.

Sam didn't let go, didn't stop, only continued to stroke their cocks faster, harder, squeezing, his gaze dropping from Dean's face to his fisted hand, watching as Dean started to come, watching as his spunk shot from his cock, coating his fist. 

Sam's own balls pulled up tight to his body, muscles tensing, he grit his teeth, his gaze darting back up to Dean's face as he watched Dean finish riding out his orgasm before he released the hunters cock from his fist. Inching up Dean's body, Sam aimed his cock so he could mark Dean, just before he threw his head back a small strangled cry tearing from his throat, his spunk shooting onto Dean's chest.

Dean's chest and stomach heaved as he tried to get his breathing under control. He stared up at Sam, then down onto his chest... definitely kinky. He reached out and slid his hand up and down Sam's thigh, looking back up at him and seeing Sam lick his hand. Lick his cum off his hand, which was way fucking hot, but then Sam kept licking, and licking, his tongue sweeping across his palm, and over the backside, and weaving between his fingers. Even though he'd just found release, a tension started to develop low in Dean's belly. "How 'bout you put that tongue to use on my cock," he suggested thickly, pulling on Sam. 

Sam paused mid lick, his eyes darting up to meet Dean's and locking, unmoving for a moment, Sam pressed his lips together in a straight line, slowly lowering his hand down against the seat leather and moved back slightly. Glancing up to be sure Dean was watching, Sam dipped his head, sticking his tongue out, he touched the underside to the tip of Dean's cock, then pulled his pink tongue back into his mouth, lifting his head. "There," Sam told him, voice low, "better?" He continued to back out of the car, pulling to his feet, he tucked his now flaccid cock back into his jeans, fastening them, his gaze intent on Dean. Tearing his gaze away from the hunter, Sam turned, lifting his already clean hand back to his mouth and continued licking it as he started walking back toward his room.

Letting out an audible breath, Dean sat up and pulled his shirt off. He used it to clean his chest off then scooted out of the car, and locked and closed the door. He watched Sam disappear into his room and closed the door like he was 'done with him.' "The hell?"

Storming after him, Dean stood in front of the door and pounded his fist on it. "Open the fucking door," he yelled, not caring who heard him. His nostrils flared as he pounded again. 

Sam had walked away to keep from doing the very thing that Dean had asked him to, and probably a hell of a lot more. It wasn't like he was trying to be an ass, but there were some things a person couldn't explain. A rough tongue, one that felt like low grade sandpaper was one, another was when you wanted to give someone a sponge bath, head to foot... with your tongue. Something about that went from kinky to creepy in five seconds flat when the person figured out you were dead serious. 

Walking back over to the door, brows furrowed, Sam tugged it open a crack, looking out at what he could only assume by the look on his face, was a very pissed off Dean. "Before you say it, no, I didn't mean to make you feel cheap. I just thought you might want to get some sleep," Sam offered a small smile at the end of his... almost lie. It wasn't a total lie, because there was no doubt they could probably both do with some sleep.

Simply pushing the door, Dean walked right through it and tossed his dirty shirt at Sam, hard. "I'm not doing this anymore. Not with you," he said, eyes hot with emotion. "So you fucking make up your mind what you want. You want to start something with me, then you fucking finish it. If what you want is a quick fuck up the ass... I'll get you some numbers off the bathroom door."

Sam huffed, turning to toss the dirtied shirt he'd caught onto the table next to his laptop. "It'd be a hell of a lot easier if that was all this was, eh?" he mumbled softly. Turning back to face Dean, Sam sighed softly as he shook his head. "What do you want me to say, Dean?" Sam asked him, eyes soft, pain-filled, brows furrowed. _I do want to be with you. For the first time this stupid ass animal and I actually AGREE on something and that something is YOU... only I can't have that, because you're a hunter and this damn animal I have inside me is too friggin' stupid to know that._

"What do I want you to say? You gotta ask me that?" He didn't believe this. Dry scrubbing his face, he looked back at Sam. "Let me put it to you this way. Is _this_ all you want from me? Sex... twenty minutes and you’re out the door, is that what this is to you?" Not like this type of relationship had ever been a problem for him, but he liked to be the one who walked away.

Sam shook his head as he crossed his arms, almost protectively over his chest. "No," he answered softly, his gaze dropping away from Dean, "it's not all I want from you." He looked back up, his expression full of regret, "but what I want doesn't seem to matter, hasn't for a long time now."

"What does that mean?" Dean searched around for a drink but saw no bottles. Figured. "Can you break it down, because I'm so fucking confused, it's not funny."

Sam hung his head. "No, Dean, I can't," he looked up, "I'm sorry. I can't tell you anything else." Shifting his weight, his raised his brows as he searched for an answer. "Let's just say that I came back from a trip a while back and since then," Sam shook his head, "I don't really get much of a say in my life. But if I did," he nodded, "you would be one of those things I would choose for myself."

For a long time, Dean was silent, letting the words sink in. A lot of it was double talk, something he didn't have a lot of patience for. But the way he looked at him at the end, like he could see clear through to Dean's soul, had Dean sucking his breath in. "You _would_ , but you _aren't_." 

He let the statement hang between them, waiting, hoping hard that Sam would contradict him. But the argument never came. He was dejected, more than he thought he could be. Slowly, he walked to the door and opened it. Without turning around, he spoke softly. "We want different things, you and I. Don't come knocking again. It... it's better that way. This..." he shook his head. _It hurt._ "... I'm not used to this... I don't like feeling like this."

Pulling the door shut with a hard click of finality, he walked to his own doorstep and then inside. If it weren't for that damned creature, he'd have been hightailing it out of town right now. Instead, he was heading for the shower and hoping the hot water would relax him. Between that and a drink or two, maybe he'd forget about those eyes which promised the world but gave nothing.


	4. Chapter 4

Sam paced the room like a caged animal, sweat beading his brow, his t-shirt neck and armpits stained with sweat, his bangs clinging to his forehead in wet sweat soaked chunks. Chewing his nails as he walked, Sam fought the need, the want, the overwhelming desire to go next door, to go to Dean and take what he needed, wanted, what the panther inside him had to have. The heat was on him and it wouldn't be long before he wasn't able to control it anymore. He would either have to go find relief or the panther would step forward and find it himself, either way, Sam was fucked, literally and figuratively. 

Reaching for the hem of his tee, Sam pulled it up and over his head, droplets of sweat slid slowly down his back and chest, running into the valleys between muscles as he walked, paced some more, chewing again on his nails. 

Unable to take it another minute, his cock hard and heavy, aching between his legs, Sam reached for the fastenings of his jeans, tugging them and his boxers down, stepping out of them as he walked over to the bed, collapsing face down against the mattress, hips gyrating, grinding his heated flesh, his cock against the cool sheets, breaths panting out though parted lips. "Dean..." the hunter's name was a tortured whisper that tumbled from his lips as he writhed against the bed, sweat glistening, muscles rippling, bulging and flexing with each movement as he squeezed his eyes closed. He fought it, for as long as he could, he fought it.

His eyes abruptly opened to reveal fully cat-like pupils, eyes glittering green and bright. Sam grit his teeth as they began to change, human eyeteeth elongating into fangs, long whiskers slowly poking through the flesh of his face as bones popped and shifted, changing his face and jaw shape. Hands gripping the sheets, slowly changing as bones popped and tendons shifted, long nails growing out from hands now morphed into large black paws. 

As the shifting continued Sam screamed, his cry morphing into one of the jungle cats and echoing loudly throughout the room.

The shout followed by the sound of an animal had Dean out of bed, gun firmly in his hand and at the door. Clad only in shorts, he tried Sam's door, then threw his weight against it, twice, before the door swung open. He called out "Sam," just as he hit the lights. As his eyes adjusted, he heard a snarl and focused on the large black panther. Aiming, he started to shoot, but the thing jumped over him and ran out the door. Dean followed and emptied his gun. "Sonova..."

Turning quickly, he called out, "Sam... Where are you?" He checked the floor on the other side of the bed. No Sam. Racing for the bathroom, he looked inside. No Sam. But that thing... that big black animal...

He took a couple steps back into the bedroom. _Cat_

All those thought he'd been trying to stave off, they rammed into him full force. Images of Sam, lapping up his liquor with his tongue. His championing of the killer on the grounds of _heat_. The way he blew hot and cold, as if he were in heat. The rubbing all over him... the fucking purring he'd thought was kind of cute... Dean's heart constricted. He knew what he'd seen at the Tile Factory, and he knew what he'd seen right here, right now. Sam... He wasn't human.

Suddenly feeling sick to his stomach, he sank down on a chair. No... No fucking way... just no.

* * *

It was near dawn by the time Sam returned to the motel. The sky was just beginning to lighten from its inky blackness as he slipped around the side of the building, naked as the day he was born. He quickly dashed into his room, shutting the door behind him, leaning back against it. One of these days he wasn't going to be so lucky and someone was going to see him, and then what the hell would he say? 

Pulling away from the door, Sam headed to the bathroom to get a shower. After being out all night in the woods, he could definitely use a hot shower. Of course one thing was glaringly obvious now, he had to get the hell outta town, this creature be damned. There would be other creatures and hell maybe, if he was lucky, he would at least hear enough about it to put a small blurb up on his site. And no, he was not going to acknowledge the ache in his chest at the idea of leaving and never seeing Dean Winchester again. It was better this way, it was _why_ he had to leave, it was better... for both of them. 

Walking toward the door of his room a half hour later, hair still damp from his shower, dressed in jeans and a light blue tee, Sam hefted his duffel over his shoulder. All he had left to pack up was his laptop, then he could check outta here and try to put all of this, put Dean Winchester and the feelings associated with him, far behind him and forget about them. 

Tugging the door to his room open, he walked out to his car, barely noting that Dean's car was still parked in the lot next to his, although the ache in his chest seemed to deepen, and the desire to see Dean one last time grew just a little stronger. 

Walking around to the back of his car, Sam popped the trunk, tossing his bag inside with a sigh, wishing yet again, that he had never made that damned trip to the Amazon all those months ago. Who knew taking pictures of sacred things came with the penalty of being cursed for life?

Dean had been silent, but as Sam pulled his head up from leaning into the trunk, he knew the guy had heard him. "How you doin'?" he asked, gripping the barrel of his shot gun with both hands and swinging the butt around. The soft woosh was followed by a sickening cracking sound as he bashed Sam in the temple, but not before he saw that soft smile starting. His heart lurched, but he hardened it as he caught the over six feet tall man, slammed the trunk shut and half carried and half dragged him to Dean's motel room.

*

Sitting on the bed with his silver bullet loaded pistol laying on the mattress next to him, Dean stared at Sam who was still out cold. 

He had Sam tied to a heavy chair, vinyl rope twisted around the length of his forearms and wrists and the arms of the chair. He'd tied Sam's legs up to the chair legs, and had rope around him, securing the trunk of his body to the back of the chair. While he was out, Dean had scratched him with a silver knife, his heart plummeting when the skin at the juncture of Sam's chest and throat sizzled and burned as if he'd poured acid on him. 

His fingers caressed the barrel of the gun. He should just do it, while Sam was asleep. Get it over with. His gut tightened. His fingers twitched. Dean started to push out of his head all those smiles, the way Sam had made him laugh, the way he'd fucking made him feel... safe... safe enough to sleep like a log. The touches, the semi kisses that had driven him crazy, the feel of Sam under him, moving with him, right there... with him. All of that... lies, fucking lies.

His jaw ached and pulsed. His eyes flared as he tried to feed the flames of his anger. This man. This animal. This _beast_ had lied to him, tricked him. It had gone out there and killed people, and then hung out with him... just so it would know how his investigations were going. And now he was going to have to kill the sonovabitch right here. He took a couple deep breaths, remembered the dead bodies flayed by this thing's sharp claws. Who'd been there for those people? No one, but Dean had to be in their corner now.

Shades of grey hovered at the edges of Sam's vision, his head jerked up, eyes still closed a low groan tearing from his throat. Long dark lashes fluttered as Sam opened his eyes. The first thing he saw was Dean, sitting over on the bed looking at him. Sam's lips started to quirk upward before memories began to filter through his aching head, Dean outside near the trunk of his car with him, then pain, blackness... and now, Dean's stunning green eyes no longer held any warmth or fire, only a cold hard edge. 

Sam swallowed as he tore his gaze away from the hunter to look down at himself, seeing the ropes wrapped around his body. Sam tugged against them, struggled for freedom, brows furrowing. His head snapped back up, gaze on Dean as he shook his head slowly, lips parted. "No," he said softly, "don't do this. Dean, please," he pleaded with his eyes, "let me explain."

Dean lifted his chin. "Don't do what, Sam?" Though he'd spoken low, he raised his voice when he said the guy's name. "Huh? What you did to all those people, I'm supposed just let it go?" 

Sam's eyes widened slightly as he looked at Dean. "What I did -" he shook his head, "I didn't kill those people," he struggled against the ropes holding him, muscles flexing and rippling as he grit his teeth. "Dean, you know me! I didn't _do_ that!" he nearly shouted, head tilting back as he stilled his struggles, lips parted as he panted his breaths. Slowly Sam lowered his head, his gaze locking with Dean's. "Please."

"I know you?" Dean nodded. "Don't try to pull that shit on me. I don't know you, or I didn't. I do now." He got up, leaving his weapon on the bed, as he paced away and turned, then pointed at Sam. "You were the one who said something about 'keeping your enemies close.' I get it now. What? You thought you could morph out more than once and I'd just... not notice?" he demanded.

Sam frowned, shaking his head. All wrong, Dean was getting it all wrong. "I - I was talking about the creature, not about me! I didn't hurt those people! I - I was trying to stay away from you last night, I couldn't control it and I shifted, it doesn't mean anything!" he jerked against the ropes, "Dean, come on!" 

"Doesn't mean anything. Right. Those people were clawed to death." He gave Sam's hands a pointed look. They'd been big paws with razor sharp claws when he'd shifted. "By something that wears shoes and leaves animal tracks," he sneered, eyes as cold as ice, deadly calm in contrast to the firestorm of emotions inside. "Dude it's over, I cut you with silver. You're a shifter. I don't know what kind," he moved closer and leaned in, "and I don't care. You're going down."

Sam stared back into Dean's eyes. "I was in the Amazon, it - it was an accident, a curse. Before I was just a regular guy, now I'm a shifter, a panther." He swallowed and shook his head. "But, I've never killed anyone. I ..."

Anger shot Dean's blood up to his temples. Moving suddenly, he grabbed his pistol off the bed and returned to grasp Sam's jaw, holding it firmly, his fingers digging into flesh and bone hard enough to bruise... but bruising was the least of his worries. "Enough lies. I saw you... you fucking had blood all over you the other night. And the nights before, always getting to the victims first... always having those photos. You killed 'em. You killed 'em Sam, and now I'm gonna kill you," he said, his voice strangely getting hoarse and thick as he put the end of the barrel to Sam's temple. "You sonovabitch..." 

Sam stared up into Dean's face, saw the tears glistening within the depths of his eyes, felt them within his own. His nostrils flared as he closed his eyes briefly, opening them to search Dean's face. "You think I'm a monster and yet you're crying," Sam told him softly. "Why?" A tear fell from his own eye to trek slowly down his cheek.

Denial hot on his lips, Dean blinked and felt the pinpricks in his eyes for the first time. Why was he crying for a monster? It should be Goddamned obvious. "Because I didn't want you to be one. I wanted..." he shoved the barrel up harder against Sam's head, "Goddamn you... Goddamn you Sam Wesson."

Sam nodded. "I wanted that too. But, I knew if you knew the truth about me, what I am now," he swallowed, another tear falling as he shook his head. "I knew what you, a hunter, would think of me," Sam told him softly, tugging at the ropes holding him. "Let me go, Dean. I didn't kill those people, I swear it. I didn't do it. Please..."

Dean's nostrils flared as he sniffed. His finger tightened, pressing on the trigger. His heart banged against his chest as he sought out his training, relying on it to pull him through this. "Should have gagged you," he said, his breaths slightly labored as he tried to force the echoes of Sam's pleas out of his mind. What he wanted, what he wished didn't matter. This was reality... this guy had cut short the lives of a lot of people.

Sam pressed his lips together as he looked at Dean, giving a small nod. "Fine. Go ahead, do it," he told him softly. "Kill me," he gave a tearful huff, "I should thank you for it, right?" his eyes slipped closed as he sniffed softly. "One thing first?" His eyes opened, "Last wish?" he gave a small broken smile. "Kiss me. Gonna die anyway, right? Might as well get that kiss before I go." 

His hand was shaking slightly as Dean repositioned the pistol. There was a lump in his throat the size of fucking Texas and Sam wasn't making it any better by giving him permission to kill him or asking for a last wish. How many times had Dean wanted to kiss him? Now? He took a couple breaths, loud ones, pumping himself up, telling himself to just do it... but Goddamnit...

"If you try anything, I _will_ beat your ass to a pulp before I kill you," he ground out, dropping lower, to his knees. He stared into Sam's eyes. Why hadn't he seen it before? The pupils changing... the slanted eyes, the way he sniffed and rubbed. Had he been blind, or just willfully blind? He started to move closer, very slowly, feeling the heat emanating from Sam's body and seeping through his clothes even before their mouths touched. The barrel slipped slightly from Sam's temple as Dean slanted his mouth over Sam's, trying desperately to keep a grip on his emotions.

Sam gave a small nod, holding perfectly still with only his eyes tracking Dean's movements. As Dean leaned slowly in, slanting his mouth over Sam's own, his lips parted, taking a breath in through flared nostrils, tongue darting out, flicking into Dean's mouth. Rough surface slipped against smooth as Sam's tongue slid alongside Dean's and he licked the roof of Dean's mouth. Sam leaned forward, straining against the ropes that dug into his skin as he struggled to get closer to Dean, deepening the kiss, tangling his tongue with Dean's, a low moan tearing from his throat.

Dean pulled back, their tongues detangling and sliding against each other. His breaths were heavy, his mouth burning, tongue... He knew now why Sam refused to kiss him before, why he never allowed the top of his tongue to ever touch or stroke him anywhere. He felt Sam's heated breaths fanning his face. They were both still while he thought it through. Yes... it felt amazing, and erotic, like nothing he'd ever felt... no... that wasn't accurate. "You." He licked his lips, his heart breaking, crushing just a little more as he put another piece of the puzzle into place. "You found me when I was stabbed. Why?" 

Sam smiled weakly. He remembered, Dean remembered him, remembered how he had licked him clean, healed him. 

Did it matter why Sam had saved him? He probably hadn't known he was a hunter. Deciding he didn't want to hear the answer, didn't want it distracting him from the job he had to do, Dean leaned in again and without hesitation, pushed his tongue into Sam's mouth, tangling his tongue with Sam's, stroking it's rough surface and moaning as Sam returned the favor. His pistol slipped from Sam's temple, to rest against his shoulder as Dean crushed his mouth harder, wanting what had been forbidden to him, needing it, demanding it, even if it was a dream, a dream that would last a few moments.  
Before Sam could formulate the words, before he could find the words to try to _explain_ , Dean was crushing his lips against Sam's. Sam kissed him back, losing himself in the kiss, barely registering when the barrel of the gun fell from his temple to lie against his shoulder. His focus was on Dean, the way he tasted, the way it felt to finally be able to kiss him. If he was going to do it, to kill him, Sam hoped Dean would do it now, as they were kissing, at least then Sam could say that he had died happy. "Please," Sam panted, lips against Dean's, "don't stop. Kiss me, just kiss me."

"Stop talking," Dean snapped, feeling tears brim over and start to fall from his eyes. Every word was a knife inside his gut, inside his heart. It shouldn't be, but it was. He rubbed his cheek against Sam's, remembering all the times Sam had done that to him, the sense of wonder that had struck him at how good it felt. A sob broke from him, and to hold it all in, he lowered his mouth once again over Sam's. He thrust his tongue hard and deep into Sam's mouth, kissing him with such force, his lips would be swollen if not split. All the signs had lead him to think this man could mean more to him than a midnight fuck, and then all the other signs ... signs he ignored... told him he was dangerous, a monster, a beast. Yet he didn't taste like a monster, didn't sound like one, didn't act like one. Was he that good? That good at playing a dumb old hunter who was lonelier than even he had known?

Sam's heart clenched at the show of affection as Dean rubbed his cheek against his, Sam doing the same back as best as he could, biting back a low purr that bubbled up in his throat, more tears spilling over to track slowly down his cheeks. His head tilted back as Dean crushed their mouths together hard, tongues tangling, dueling as they kissed desperately, low soft whimpers tearing from Sam's throat. "Never felt like this for someone before," Sam spoke softly against Dean's lips, hot breaths mixing and mingling with Dean's. "Didn't know how to tell you, couldn't."

Dean's world plunged into darkness as Sam echoed his own feelings. "Said don't talk," he whispered between kisses, only the sharp edge was gone now. He was kissing Sam with the desperation of a man who knew this was the last time, extending the moment as much as he could to delay the inevitable end. Didn't it suck? To find yourself, find the person who could be your other half, and then to lose them by your own hand. Fuck. He put one hand behind Sam's head and crushed their mouths together, teeth clinking, tongues dragging against each other, a sensation that Dean would never, ever again experience, and the quiet sounds... the purring.

He reared back suddenly, tears streaming down his face as he was about to lift the pistol back up, when his cell suddenly rang. 

Sam's eyes opened, the soft purring that had been sounding deep in his throat stopping abruptly as he stared into Dean's face, some inner knowledge telling him that this was it. He held his breath, but he didn't look away, wouldn't. If Dean was going to do this, the hunters face would be the last thing that Sam saw before he died. Time seemed to stand still for that second as the sound of a phone ringing filled the silence. 

Blowing out a hot breath, Dean moved across the room, turned his back to Sam and took the call, wiping his face with his hand. 

Releasing the breath he had been holding, Sam turned his head, watching Dean as he moved across the room to answer the call, waiting until he finished, listening to Dean's end of the conversation. As the hunter turned back around Sam's gaze met his. "I love you," Sam told him softly.

Mid-step, Dean faltered, his gaze locking with Sam's. He felt the blood drain from his face. Tension had every part of his body stiffening, his muscles aching. In another world, another time... if Sam weren't a killer... if. "Nice try," he said gruffly, moving to reach into the duffel bag next to the bed. Pulling out a shirt, he used his knife to cut it into strips. 

Sam frowned, watching the hunter. "I wasn't _trying_ anything. I meant what I said." He licked his lips. "What was that call? What are you doing?" 

"Looks like you're getting bolder, killing during the day now. You did leave here in your cat 'get up'," Dean pointed out. Moving behind him, he said, "open your mouth." He could do it the hard way too, but what was the point anymore. He had a feeling when he did put a bullet in Sam's brain, he wouldn't get over it... not for a long time. 

Sam's brows furrowed as he frowned. "It killed in daylight? It has to be in heat that's the only reason that it-" Dean's command for him to open his mouth cut off Sam's words. He huffed, lips pressed together for a moment before he opened his mouth. "You're making a mista-" the makeshift gag shut off the rest of what he wanted to say. Sam glared at Dean as he stepped back around him, tugging against the ropes that held him. What, was Dean afraid he was going to scream for help before he put a bullet in his brain? Or... Sam's eyes widened as he tugged harder against the ropes. He was going to just fuckin' leave him here!? 

Shrugging his jacket on, Dean grabbed his weapons and concealed them as he walked to the door. He turned and looked at Sam for a long moment, then took the 'do not disturb' sign, and placed it on the outside door handle. It was a respite, but he'd have to finish this business when he got back. Letting out a deep breath, he headed for the car.

* * *

Three hours later, Dean unlocked the door and walked inside. He ran his hand over his face and walked up to Sam, leaning over him as he undid the gag, which was now real wet with saliva, and tossed it. Eyes only inches from Sam's, he asked. "Do you have a mate running around?"

Sam licked his lips, the corners of his mouth sore from the gag. Eyes narrowed, he tore his gaze away from Dean's, turning his head. "Yeah, you."

Dean backhanded him. "I'm serious. There's another one of you out there, and you're gonna tell me who it is." Seeing the thin stream of blood at the corner of Sam's mouth, he looked away. Goddamnit, he shouldn't be ashamed for doing his goddamned job and saving lives. 

Sam slowly turned his head back toward Dean, his tongue darting out to lick at the blood on the corner of his mouth quickly. "No, I don't know what it is," Sam answered softly, head hanging. "I was trying to figure it out too."

"Yeah... right." He moved away. "Where's your camera?"

Sam didn't answer, lifting his head to watch Dean, eyes narrowed into angry slits as he tugged again at the ropes for nearly the millionth time, wrists now red and raw from struggling to get free.

"I said where's your camera, Goddamit. Don't make me..." His fist was balled up, but he forced his fingers to relax. "I want to compare your _paw_ prints with that thing in the parks."

Sam licked his lips. "It's in my bag, in the car," he answered, "DON'T- don't ruin the film," he dropped his gaze, "please." He gave a small nod, "I have people counting on that stuff. Just - don't ruin it." His gaze darted back up to Dean's, pleading with his eyes. Maybe it was stupid to worry about his web site when he wasn't going to be around much longer, but what he said was true. People were counting on him, even if something happened to him, someone would notify his uncle and the last things he was working on would eventually get put up. A lot of hunters had paid good money for his research, even in death he wasn't about to let their money, or the faith they put in him go to waste. 

Dean looked at him, then nodded. "Don't make any sound," he warned, leaving the room.

The keys were still dangling off the trunk of Sam's car. Dean opened it and started rifling through his stuff, and grabbed the camera. There was a folder full of research too, which he took. On the camera, he found the photo he'd wanted, and thought back to the print at The Tile Factory. There was a fresher one behind the motel, from when Sam had run out. He walked around the building and compared the picture to the print. He'd thought they were slightly different, but in reality... they were a lot different.

Heading back to the room, he started going through the research. Once he was inside, he put the folder down on the bed, and looked at Sam. The research was almost a mirror image of his own. Sam's sources were slightly different, but it reflected a man trying to find the creature. "Fine. You're not that thing. What are you?"

Sam stared at Dean. "I'm Catwoman's illegitimate baby," he responded, his voice deadpan flat. "Wanna see my whip?" he asked just as sarcastically, pressing his lips together in a frown.

"You want to live?" Dean countered. "Start answering my questions and you just fucking might. "What the hell are you? Why are you looking into this other thing that's killing? What's your game?"  
Sam tilted his head back, staring up at the ceiling. "I'm a photographer. I own a website, one that hunters use." He lowered his head, looking at Dean. "UnexplainedOrigions.com," he gave a pointed look. "Yeah, some people don't feel I nickel and dime them to death and actually believe in my work." He swallowed, tearing his gaze away, once more, trying to ignore the fact that he was starting to sweat again, the needs were beginning to rage inside of him. "I, uh, I was trying to figure out what that thing was, put the information on my site, the photographs." He sighed, a droplet of sweat running down the side of his face from his temple. "I'm not a killer. I'm not a monster," he frowned, "well, not really."

"You're 'unexplained origins?'" Dean let out a breath. Suddenly it all made sense. The strange smiles each time he mentioned and cursed the site, the camera, the detailed notes. "That doesn't rule out being a killer. Maybe you're not that thing," he pointed at the door, "but another kind," he said. He noticed Sam's face was flushed. "You need water?" He'd left him here for hours with a gag that would have sucked up all his saliva. 

Crossing the room, Dean returned with a plastic bottle that he twisted open. Stepping between Sam's legs, he held the bottle to Sam's mouth.

Glancing down at the bottle, Sam closed his lips around it drinking greedily, the tip of his tongue dipping down into the neck of the bottle to lap up that water. His gaze returned to Dean's face as he drank, he could feel the hunter's body heat, smell his scent, the odor of his musk. Sam squeezed his eyes closed, stifling a groan as he tried to nod that he was finished drinking. Almost without thought his knees clamped together against Dean's leg as Sam tried to slump down in the seat, though he was unable, due to the ropes, hips slightly thrusting upward. 

Dean looked down, then back at Sam. "What are you doing?" he demanded. He noticed Sam's nostrils were slightly flared, his pupils had gone very dark and large. Realizing that his flushed face and the rest meant he was... what, turned on, he gave him a look. "This is an interrogation, what the hell?" He started to pull away.

Sam's lips parted, breaths panting as he arched against the ropes. "Don't go," he groaned, head falling back. "Ah, hell, go! Run! Fuck!" Sam pulled his knees apart, releasing the hunter as he squeezed his eyes closed. "This was why you saw what you did last night. I fought to not come to you, fought it because you told me to stay away." Slowly Sam lowered his head, opening his eyes to reveal elongated cat-like pupils within the brilliant green of his eyes. 

"You're gonna go shift and do what that thing did?" Dean shoved Sam against the chair. "I got news for you, you're _not_ gonna kill me," he said with finality, staring into brilliant cat eyes that seemed to see through to his soul. 

Sam panted his breaths as he stared back at Dean, eyes shining with unshed tears. "You don't get it do you?" Sam asked softly, straining against the ropes, "Auugh! Let me go! Fuck! Let me go, dammit!" he thrashed harder making the chair start to tip first one way then the other. 

"Not yet, I'm not done... we're not done. What's the matter with you?" Dean raised his voice, not in anger, but fear blossoming in his stomach. He had not hurt Sam. Threatened, sure, hit him once, but.... "Sam?" Straddling him, practically sitting on his lap to prevent the chair from tipping, Dean gripped Sam's jaw and leaned in. "What's gotten into you... what do you need, dammit?!"

Sam grit his teeth as he stared up into the hunter's face, breaths panting out. "You," he growled out between his teeth.

"Me." Dean started to nod and formulate a sarcastic response, when he realized Sam was telling the truth. Like every one of those nights when he'd come to him and demanded sex. "Heat? You're in heat... over me."

Sam squeezed his eyes closed as he gave a nod, hanging his head. "Don't," he panted the word breathlessly, "don't laugh." 

He wasn't gonna kill him. Maybe he should. Maybe in the past he would have. Maybe his heart was too involved, not that this would go anywhere, but Dean knew that he'd delayed putting a bullet through Sam's head for a reason. He just wasn't gonna do it. _Couldn't_

Tilting his head to the side, he slanted his mouth over Sam's. The brief touch ignited into passion, Sam's rough tongue immediately pushing into his mouth. Dean groaned and leaned in, sliding as far forward along Sam's thighs as he could so his chest was against Sam's. As they deepened the kiss, he started to get light headed, his need spiking. This was what Sam did to him, whether he liked it or not. Sucking Sam's tongue into his mouth, he blindly started to untie Sam's right hand, pulling the rope off his forearm without breaking the kiss.

Moaning, purring as he kissed Dean back with everything he had, tongues tangling together, his head sliding from side to side, teeth knocking, Sam arched against the hunter as best as he could, needing him, needing to feel him. _His mate. His perfect mate._

Feeling Dean's fingers working at the rope at his arm, Sam pulled against it, tugging it free as soon as the rope was loose enough, wrapping that arm around Dean, fingers splayed across the his center of the hunter's back, fingertips digging in as he held onto him, still kissing him, nipping at the tender flesh of his lips. Sam hissed in air between his teeth, his gaze meeting Dean's as the kiss ended. "Want you so much, I -" he clamped his mouth shut, was going to be shot down again. He'd told the hunter he loved him once and gotten nothing in return. Instead, Sam showed him, rubbing his face against Dean's, against his shoulders, nipping at the flesh of his neck, his lips, licking the hunter's neck, long drags of his rough tongue against Dean's flesh. 

The sound of heavy breaths and moans broke from Dean as he was stroked and caressed within an inch of his life. He tipped his head back, letting Sam's tongue work its magic on his throat as Dean shoved both his hands under Sam's shirt and pushed his calloused palms up and down his corded muscles, groaning as he leaned back and managed to brush his cock against Sam's, though their jeans provided a thick barrier. "Sam... fuck... want you," he groaned. 

Sam nipped at Dean's jaw line, trailing open mouthed kisses and licks down the side of Dean's neck, across his Adam's apple to the hallow of his throat. He nuzzled there before tilting his face upward, running his tongue up the hunters throat to his chin. "Untie me," he whispered softly. "Untie me and let me do this one last time." 

_One last time._ There was no sadder truth. Pulling away, Dean nodded and worked on the rope binding Sam's left arm, then slipped off his thighs, and bent down to untie one leg. When Sam bent to untie his other leg at the same time, Dean tensed for a moment, then merely turned his face toward him. "Kiss me again," he demanded, once again blindly working the knot.

Turning his face toward Dean, Sam crushed his lips against the hunter's, tongue thrusting deeply into his mouth, a low moan sounding deep in his throat. Finishing with the rope, Sam reached for Dean's face, cupping it between his hands as he kissed him harder, slowly sliding off the chair onto the floor. Dropping down onto his knees in front of Dean, he groped him, touching him everywhere as he kissed him with all the need that had built up inside him. Their tongues tangled, teeth knocking, nipping, lips sliding from side to side, devouring one another desperately, as if somehow they could memorize this feeling for ever. 

Dean's hands roved over Sam, every part of him, the back of his head, his shoulders, his sides, gripped his ass as Dean lifted his hips, then went lower to Sam's thighs. His mouth was still welded to Sam's, his tongue tangling with and being caressed by Sam's rough tongue. It was such an erotic feeling, he couldn't help but be jealous of all those others who'd experience it, Sam's tongue. "Shirt off," he said breathlessly, as he pushed Sam's tee up. He pushed his own shirt off his shoulders, then started to pull his shirt off, just as he felt Sam's hand move up his belly to his chest. 

Sam focused on Dean as he pushed his shirt up, palms flat against the hunter's chest, sliding over toned and muscled flesh. Pulling the tee up and over Dean's head, Sam tossed it, his hands going to the fastenings of the hunter's jeans. "Off now," Sam demanded, arching his hips, breaths panting out between parted lips. Unzipping, Sam pulled Dean's jeans open, thumbs tucking into the waistband to pull the pants down to the hunter's thighs. He reached for Dean's cock, wrapping one hand around his length, he dropped down, dipping his head low and running his rough tongue up the underside of Dean's cock, from base to tip, then swirling it around the crown.

Dean was on his knees with Sam's long legs splayed out on either side of him. The first time Sam's rough tongue lapped along his shaft, he groaned and arched forward, his fingers digging into Sam's shoulders as he rode the waves of intense heat sweeping through him. "Incredible," he muttered, looking at Sam through heavy lidded eyes, and guiding his head close. "Again, please," he begged, biting his lower lip and pressing his cock against Sam's mouth. "Tongue... please." Usually he'd be demanding to be sucked, but hell... he'd never felt anything like this against his cock before.

Glancing up at Dean's face, Sam released the hunters cock, wrapping his arms around his thighs. Sam held onto him tightly as he started to lick him, long strokes of his tongue, along Dean's cock, over his balls, the juncture of his thighs as if he were cleaning him, licking each area over and over again, head sliding, turning side to side.

"Oh God... God yes," Dean started to chant, to whisper unintelligible words as that incredible tongue of Sam's dragged across his shaft, his balls and the sensitive area between his balls and shaft. With each touch, Dean grew a little wilder, a little more desperate, his blunt nails digging and pinching into Sam's shoulder, his other fist clenching around a handful of Sam's soft hair, pushing his head where he needed it. His hips started to buck, deep groans breaking from his throat as he started to spiral hard toward release. "Oh my God... Sam..."

Arching all the way back, Dean shouted Sam's name, his hand gripping his own cock and positioning it over Sam's mouth as he shot his first rope of cum into Sam's mouth. As Sam licked his tip clean, a thick gurgling sound came from Dean, and then he was shooting his load again, this time fucking the wet heat of Sam's mouth with his crown. "Fuuuuuck," he shouted, before his head snapped forward and he was bumping his forehead against Sam and breathing hard, breaths panting out. 

Slowly, as he came back to earth, he smiled. "I don't think you'll have trouble attracting anyone... like ever." Pulling back, he looked down at Sam's thick hard cock, then slid his hand down the guy's belly to wrap his fingers around it. He squeezed lightly a few times, then started to stroke back and forth, eyes locked with Sam's, his breath hitching when he saw Sam's pupils elongate and a predatory expression crossed his face. 

Pushing Dean back with a hand against the center of his chest, Sam pulled the hunter down to the floor, "Lay back." Sam told him softly as he pulled up on to his hands and knees, crawling over Dean, muscles rippling under sweat glistening tan skin as he moved, his gaze intent on the hunter's, before he tore it away, dipping his head to lick once more at Dean's groin, cleaning him, tasting him, enjoying him the same way a cat would. 

It went on and on, and by the time Sam stopped, Dean's cock was semi-hard again. Pulling his head up, Sam crawled forward, arching his back, muscles flexing and sliding as he thrust up against the hunter, making their cocks slide together, though he still held the rest of his body mostly off of Dean. Drawing himself up on the upstroke, Sam arched again, sliding against Dean's body in the same slow teasing manner, a low purr sounding deep in his throat.

Dean ran his hands up and down Sam's back and ass, loving how his muscles tensed and flexed. It took a tremendous amount of strength to move like he was moving, brushing, lifting and brushing against his body. He couldn't believe how quickly he was getting hard again. Or maybe he should, he'd been with Sam before. His breaths started to come faster as his blood surged to his cock. Gripping Sam's hip, he pulled him down, held him against his body for a long moment, before smacking his ass. "Turn over and sit on me. I want to be inside you," he said, as he started to sit up himself.

When Sam lifted off him, Dean's hands went to his waist, guided him so that kneeling, Sam was straddling his thighs and looking away from him. "Grab the lube and condom," he said, and watched the way Sam's body seemed to elongate as he stretched to get to the night stand. Though Sam closed his hand around the tube, he shoved the foil packets away. Dean didn't argue, and immediately started lubing his hole, and kissing his back and neck, whispering to him of how good it was gonna feel in a few moments. Sliding his hand between them, he aligned his cock, and leaned back a little. "Now Sam," he said, inviting Sam to sit down and take his cock up his ass.

Sam slowly sat back, groaning as Dean's cock pushed into him, opening him up, past the first ring of muscle and further as Sam sat back more, head hanging, breaths panting out hard, one hand reaching back, he gripped the hunters hip, easing himself down the rest of the way past the ring of muscle, until Dean was completely embedded inside of him. Sitting flush against the hunter, Sam groaned, panting his breaths, eyes squeezed closed, before he slowly started to rise, then lower once more a low moan tearing from his throat. "Oh God..."

Hissing, Dean tried to control the urge to buck his hips and start fucking. Instead, he kissed Sam's neck and shoulders, stroked his chest with one hand, and his thigh with the other, concentrating on mapping the planes of his body. But trying not to think of how tight he fit around his cock, how his inner muscles squeezed around him, and how fucking hard he was... it was almost impossible. 

He ran his hand up Sam's face, pushing back his now wet hair, and whispered in his ear. "Lemme fuck you, Sammy."

He didn't know why he'd called him that. All Dean knew was he'd gotten the go ahead, and he couldn't wait any longer. One arm tightly wrapped around Sam's waist, the other bent and bracing against the floor behind him for leverage, Dean started to lift his hips, groaning when Sam lifted up and almost pulled off his cock entirely before sitting again. "Oh my fucking God," he groaned, his entire body shuddering with pleasure as he started to fuck, muscles straining as he lifted up, carrying part of Sam's weight as well.  
Moving with Dean, pulling up and sitting back, Sam groaned, muscles clenching and tensing, releasing and rippling. He pressed his lips together tightly, nostrils flaring, his hold on the hunters hip tightening as he ground back against him. Sam's free hand going to his own aching cock, wrapping tightly around it, sliding slowly along his length. He hissed in a breath through his teeth, gritting them, soft whimpers sounding deep in his throat. "Oh Dean... God..." 

Pulling up slightly, Sam reached further back, wrapping his arm back around Dean's waist as far as he could reach before he leaned over farther, pulling Dean over with him as he released his cock, catching himself on one hand as he fell forward on his hands and knees. "Harder... fuck me harder..." Sam panted, "So I can feel you later." 

_Feel you later._ They both knew this was it, on chance, one time. There was no future for a hunter and a supernatural creature, and Dean wasn't even completely sure Sam was harmless to people. He had no evidence Sam hurt anyone, so he was letting him go, admittedly for reasons unrelated to his work. Didn't mean he didn't regret what might have been if Sam were normal, or that he didn't want to claim Sam so hard, Sam would remember him for a long time, maybe every time anyone else fucked him.

That thought of someone else touching Sam had Dean sliding his hand over Sam's back and almost roughly pushing him down to his forearms. Getting a bruising grip on Sam's hips, he started to fuck hard. Zero to eighty, it’s what they both wanted, needed. His head fell back, teeth clenched, grimacing with the effort of slamming into Sam's ass, pulling out, and fucking harder and harder. His skin, his balls slapped against Sam's, sending pleasure jolts through him. "That's it... that's it..." he started to chant.

Then Dean realized he needed more, wanted more. One arm curling around Sam's waist, he pulled him up onto all fours, then dropped forward, his chest pressing against Sam's back as he continued to thrust. He aimed more deliberately now, making sure his pulsing cock hit Sam's prostate with long slow thrusts, followed by short sharp ones. His mouth sought Sam's, absolutely demanding his tongue, and he got it. Their tongues tangled and thrust into each others' mouths, as he fucked hard, each thrust threatening to push Sam across the floor. If he weren't in such good physical condition, this would be impossible. 

"Oh... God," Dean groaned, suddenly needing to feel Sam's cock in his hand. To be responsible, completely responsible, for making him come. He slipped his hand down, closed his fist around Sam's dripping cock and started to stroke him hard. "That's it... show me what you got... that's it... oh God..." and then they were kissing again, their mouths welded together like they'd never part.

Groans and deep mewled growls tore from Sam's throat as he alternately pressed back against Dean's cock and thrust his dick into the hunter's fisted hand. A fine sheen of sweat covered his body as they moved together, tongues tangling, inside and outside of their mouths, soft grunts sounding deep in his throat as Dean seemed to slam impossibly harder into him. With each bone jarring thrust, each hard pull of his cock in Dean's fisted hand, pleasure and pain mingled until Sam's muscles tensed, clenching and tightening, mouth tearing from Dean's as he grit his teeth, throwing his head back, balls drawing up painfully tight. "Oh God..." Sam nearly whined the breathless cry. Locked muscles trembling as he hovered on the brink for a long moment, heat pooling low in his belly before an inhuman jungle cat howl broke from him and he started to come, hot spurts of his spunk coating Dean's fisted hand, dripping down onto the floor. 

Sam's inhuman shout pushed Dean over the edge. He slammed into Sam a few more times, then ground mercilessly against his ass, his cock buried deep inside Sam, and every part of his body pressing into Sam's, his thighs, his chest, his face, and mouth, until he was scorched by a wave of intense heat that had him shouting. He thought he was calling Sam's name, but as they both crumpled to the ground, he realized he was saying, 'mine, mine...'

Laying on the floor on his stomach, head turned to one side, Sam fought to catch his breath, eyes squeezing closed as he swallowed hard, then blinking open. Turning his head slightly, he looked over his shoulder at Dean who had started to lift off him. Sam quickly rolled over onto his back, gripping the hunter's waist to prevent him from moving away. Still on his back under Dean, Sam shimmied down, whispering softly, "stay on your hands and knees." Stopping as he reached Dean's groin, Sam wrapped his arm around Dean's waist and pulled his lower body down to where Sam could lick him, clean him, tongue running over Dean's cock and balls slowly as he held his lover immobile and in place, a deep purr sounding from Sam's throat. 

Dean dropped his head down and watched Sam, his breaths still panting out. "Shirt's right there," he said quietly, but knew this wasn't just about cleaning him up. Or it was, but not in the usual sense. "Careful... I might get it up again," he said, trying to joke. He stretched a little, but found Sam was holding his him tight so he couldn't move too far. Closing his eyes, he just enjoyed it... the sensation of a wet rough tongue stroking and lapping at him. "Never had a tongue massage before..."  
Eyes closed, Sam continued to clean Dean, his purring growing louder as he licked until every trace was gone and only then dropping a soft kiss against Dean's stomach. Gracefully sliding his body back up and stretching, he found himself face to face with Dean again. Reaching up, Sam pulled the hunter down into his arms. "Stay here with me, please... just for a little while, then I'll go, or you can -" he sighed, closing his eyes, "whatever." Sam wasn't sure if Dean had let go of his plan to kill him, either way, it didn't much matter, he knew he would never see Dean again after this. That knowledge made Sam's heart ache, unshed tears stinging the back of his eyes as he held onto the hunter just a little tighter. 

"Now _you_ ask," Dean said. He'd always been the one to try to make Sam stay in bed. He nodded, "for a while. I have things to do later, but when I'm back... you should... you should be gone." The words left bitterness in his mouth, and his stomach didn't feel so good either. "Let's go to the bed," he said, not wanting to face his feeling. He helped Sam up and started for the bed, when he felt Sam's arms come around his waist, and his head rest on his shoulder as they walked. It reminded him of how he'd awakened at almost noon, with Sam draped over him. He'd never have that again. Unable to speak, he pulled sheets open, turned in Sam's arms and kissed him, then pulled him down onto the bed.  
* * * 

After a short cat nap - Sam hated that term now - he found himself unable to sleep, laying there staring at the hunter's face, so relaxed and worry free in sleep, memorizing each line, each freckle. After nearly two hours had passed, Sam pulled slowly from the bed, gathering his clothes and dressing hastily. Dean had told him to be gone tomorrow when he returned from doing whatever, but Sam didn't think he could just sit around until then knowing he was going to have to leave and never see the hunter again. It was better to just do it, rip the band-aid off and get it over with. 

Quietly walking out the door of Dean's room, Sam went over to his own, gathering up the few things he had left, then went to his car. He didn't even bother to grab the pictures of the creature's prints he had taken from Dean's room, let the hunter have them. It was the least he could do, since he was being allowed to live, right? 

Starting his car, Sam gave the closed curtains of Dean's room one final lingering look before backing out of the parking space.


	5. Chapter 5

Dean woke to a silent room. The warmth that had been pressing down on him as he'd slept earlier was gone. He turned his head and confirmed Sam's clothes had been picked up from the floor. The only sign that he'd been there was the chair in the middle of the room with the ropes on the floor next to it.

Just a few hours ago, he'd been ready to blow Sam's brains out. A muscle pulsed in Dean's jaw. Even when he'd believed, truly believed Sam was the killer, he'd hesitated, delayed... hadn't had the guts to do it. His eyes swept closed and he pulled Sam's pillow up over his face and drew in his scent. Was he thinking with his cock here?

A lump rose in his throat as he thought about each of their encounters. How mad he got when Sam wouldn't kiss him. How it sort of... it hurt, how rejected he felt each time Sam would refuse to stay the night after getting what he wanted. Since when was he so damned sensitive? Since frigging never. No, since he ran into Sam Wesson, that's when.

"Oh God..." he groaned into the pillow. Twenty eight years. He'd gone twenty eight years laughing at melodramatic people who cried over girlfriends or boyfriends or those they wanted, and he'd never been bit. Not once. It had always been about the moment. If it worked out, great. If not, there were other fish in the sea. But now... yeah, pretty much felt like he'd taken a knife to the heart. Sonovabitch... he had to be a damned panther... why? Somebody up there hated Dean. They had to.

* * *

Sitting at the bar at Ruby's, Dean had the drug, dezire, in his palm. It was a small vial, and they said a couple drops on the tongue and you'd be high but still aware. He'd done his research and found that every one of the victims had this new designer drug in their system. After scouring all the bars and clubs, he'd also found that Ruby's was the only place it was being sold, tested on the market. What was the world becoming when even drugs went the way of retail?

Unless he was wrong about Ruby's being the only place to get the drug, it meant every one of the victims had visited Ruby's at some point, with a good chance it would have been the night that they were killed. 

Was something in the drug attracting this creature? Dean had to draw the thing out. He'd spoken to the doc doing the testing in detail and learned the effect of the drug was very much like being drunk, but not out of your mind drunk. He could handle that, especially with another hunter watching his back.

Ordinarily he wouldn't trust anyone he hadn't worked with but if the effect of the drug was to just give him a buzz, he could work like that. So he went ahead, dropped a single drop of the liquid into his drink, and then downed it.

*

Hours later, after speaking to countless people, Dean figured it was a bust. He got up, and started weaving through the dance crowd, wondering how he hadn't realized how off he felt. He ran a hand over his face and looked for Al. Not seeing the other hunter, he kept walking. It felt like the walls were pressing in on him, boxing him in. He had to get out, fast.

He stumbled, apologized and kept going. Air... he needed air. Once he was out the door, he knew there was no way he could drive. None. Fumbling, he got his phone out of his pocket and tried to call Al. After several tries, hitting the wrong numbers and having trouble speaking when someone, not Al, picked up, he decided he'd have to get to the motel on his own.

There was a hotel a block down, and there would be a taxi line there. Only, standing there on the sidewalk, Dean didn't know which fucking direction to go. Hell... the world was starting to spin around him. He took a stagger step forward and almost fell off the sidewalk, but a woman pulled him back. 

"Are you alright?" She held him up and when he didn't answer and asked him again.

"Yeah... nah. Can you call me a cab or...."

"My car's right around the block, I think you need to get to the hospital," she said, helping him.

"Yeah... maybe." He put more of his weight on her and apologized. "Drink... something was in my drink." He was still in control of himself and not about to give away he'd taken the drug voluntarily. "Can't make it. Call an ambulance," he said as they reached the corner. 

"We're almost there, right across the street," she said, pushing him along.

Dean lifted his head and saw the cars parked along the curb lining the park. _Park_. Coming to a standstill, he leaned one arm against a car on their side of the street. "That's fine, I don't need a ride."

She didn't answer him, but grabbed and shoved him.

"I don't... Goddamnit..." he staggered back and fell on his ass on the sidewalk. Instinctively, he raised his arm, but saw her shift. They weren't on the park side, but the sidewalk was empty and the large creature snarling at him would scare anyone off anyway. Dean forced himself to look at it, even when he just wanted to close his eyes and lay there so the world would stop spinning. It looked like... like a huge dog, all muscle and fangs. Christ... it was like a hellhound, at least how they looked in the drawings he'd seen, but huge. Definitely it looked nothing like a panther. 

It pushed its front legs off the ground and stood maybe over six feet tall. The thing that captured Dean's attention fully was its claws... so fucking long, about double the size of its large paws. Yeah... he had to get outta here. He started to scramble, crawl toward the parked car. Head first, he started to slither under a parked car, half his body still up on the sidewalk as he pulled himself under.

He shouldn't have been surprised when his leg was caught. Teeth... fuck... He tried hard to get under the car, but that thing was strong, and he was pretty far gone with the drugs. His face scraped against the curb as he was pulled out and then he was laying on the sidewalk again, fully exposed.

As he clumsily went for his gun, the thing howled, and pawed at him, making it impossible and shredding his jacket. "Get the fuck outta here," he tried to shout and shove it away. The next thing he knew, its snout was all over him, sniffing him, rolling him over and sniffing his neck, its wet nose leaving trails against his skin. Then it turned around and ran off, just like that. No reason. 

Letting out a couple deep breaths, Dean started to sit up, then the world went black.

* * *

Two days later, Dean found himself on Sam's web site. Moving away from the lap top, he paced a while. That ache in his gut had never left. He blew out a couple hot breaths and told himself it was impossible to miss someone this much when you'd only maybe spent, what... 30 hours together, and most of it was having sex or sleeping? Made no sense, and he wasn't fucking having it.

He went back to the desk and sat down in front of the computer. He could see that the website owner was online. There was live chat available, but he opted for e-mail.

Four times, he started to write, and erased. Goddammit, this shouldn't be so hard.

 _If you're done ripping off your readers with your monthly fees, answer me this._ Dean went on to detail what he knew about all the victims having taken the drug and told Sam what happened to him when he'd taken the drug and successfully drawn the creature out. _Didn't think I smelled so bad, but anyway, you got any ideas?_ Before he hit 'send,' he added, _It wasn't a cat._ That had to be obvious from the description he'd given, but it was an apology of sorts.

Sam had ended up on the other side of town, in Homestead instead of Miami. It was close enough to where he needed to be, but far enough away that he might not ever have to worry about running into Dean. Not that he would have minded, save for the fact he was pretty damn sure seeing the hunter would only add to the dull ache in his chest, but Dean had been clear. He never wanted to see Sam again. And Sam wasn't going to push the envelope. He'd been allowed to live, the hunter hadn't killed him, the least he could do was to respect his wishes, no matter how much he might miss him. 

He'd been online several hours, mostly chatting with teenagers who were simply looking to do book reports, so he had been half feeding them a line of bull shit and half telling the truth. After all, it wasn't like he could admit to a seventeen year old that the thing in the closet was not only real, but that it would likely eat him one day if he didn't get a hunter there to kill the sonofabitch. 

He'd been about to sign off when the email came through from a name he didn't really recognize. Sure he'd seen it on his site, but hell, he'd seen a lot of names on his site, and Zepplinman79 didn't really tell him a whole lot about who the hell it was. 

Frowning, Sam clicked the email, his lips slowly tugging upward into a smile, even as the ache in his chest became more pronounced. By the time Sam finished reading the email he was frowning again as he stared at the laptop screen. 

_Sounds to me like you had a bad acid trip. Not that I'm sure you checked with your local walk-in clinic to find out if you were allergic to the crap they put in that street shit or anything anyway... I did some looking into that drug actually. Call me curious. I found reports of dogs going ape shit on the stuff. Guess that's the new form of lab testing for street dope, try it out on your friendly neighborhood pit-bull and see what happens. Anyway, something in the drug, a scent, a pheromone it releases in humans, something must attract this creature. At any rate, I can tell you exactly why that thing left you alone, but you're not gonna like it... let's just say that I did you a favor in the long run apparently and we'll call it a day._

Sam's finger hovered over the send button for a few moments before he back spaced, erasing: 'let's just say I did you a favor in the long run and we'll call it a day', ending it instead with, _Hope you get it... and no, it wasn't a cat._ , then pressed send.

Dean hadn't moved, he'd hoped that Sam would answer. When the email came in, he scoured it for a hint of something personal. Not knowing why he felt let down, he nodded at the information.

 _Must be catnip for hellhounds._ Dean flinched at the thought that he'd really kinda been catnip for Sam, though thinking it through, maybe it hadn't been him. It had been Sam in heat, and anyone would do, he was just convenient. Leaning his elbow down on the table, he rubbed his eyes. There was so much to be said but was best left unsaid between them. _So how much will you charge for a recording of a sound? Purring. Can't sleep._ He hit send before he could change his mind, then his heart leaped to his chest as he _did_ change it, but could do nothing about the sent mail. 

Clicking open the return email that Sam had expected would be Dean telling him in caps lock to spit it out already and tell him why the thing had left him alone, only to find something completely different, something he definitely was _not_ expecting. A sad smile pulled at his lips as he read and re-read the last line. My purring? As the ache in his chest grew worse Sam raised a hand, running it through his hair with a sigh before typing. 

_For you? I'll send it for free. Gimme an address._ He pressed send before he could change his mind, one elbow propped on the table top, Sam hung his head, covering his face with that hand as he waited for the ding that would tell him he'd gotten a reply, hoping he hadn't just been a fool.

Dean could have died... he had been holding his breath. There it was. He opened it. "For me," he chuckled and started typing back

 _Thought for me you'd double your price. Electronic copy works best. If not, ask me again when you're ready, I move around._ Alone, from one hotel room to another. Giving out a dejected sigh, he added. _Why did it leave me alone? Doesn't matter if I don't like it._  
At the ding, Sam raised his head, hand running over his face as he looked at the laptop screen, stared at it a few moments before gathering the courage to press the open button. A slow smile pulled at his lips as he read the first line before he rolled his eyes. "Yeah, because we all know how much I hate _you,_ " he muttered sarcastically into the empty room, sighing and shaking his head. 

_It left you alone because of me. Because... well, I don't know how to tell you this exactly, but as far as the animal kingdom is concerned, you're kind of my bitch. Sorry._ Sam clicked around on his laptop, pulling up an old file of himself 'purring.' He'd recorded it a short time after he'd been cursed and someone had mentioned his 'cute snoring.' Sam had wanted to see, or rather _hear_ for himself what the hell they'd been talking about. He attached the file to Dean's email. _Here's that purring you wanted._ He pushed the send button, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth. Well, that was either the last he would _ever_ hear of Dean Winchester or he was about to get an earful, well, a written earful anyway.

Dean clicked the email open then the attachments. He leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes. The sounds washed over him, and he was back there again, with Sam rubbing against him, making those sounds near his ear, practically vibrating. His entire body was affected, the material of his jeans suddenly too restrictive. He gave a small groan and through half lidded eyes typed.

_Thanks. I'll be in my bunk._

Hitting send, Dean brought the lap top to the bed, and played the sounds again. Only now, he was half sitting in bed and squeezing his groin over his jeans as he thought of Sam. Sam who'd marked him, claimed him as his somehow... maybe that's what all the rubbing had been about. "Nghh... God," he blew out a hot breath, restarted the sound, and pulled his cock out of his jeans.

Opening the email, Sam's breath was knocked from his lungs as he stared at the words. No... Dean couldn't mean... he swallowed, his mind going back for the hundredth time to the last time they'd been together, a low moan working out of him. Running his hand over his face, Sam shook his head. No, he had to mean sleep... or something. Couldn't be... But, it didn't stop the feeling of loss from being any more pronounced, it didn't stop the ache in his chest, or the sad smile that pulled at his lips as he slowly clicked out of the window and powered down the laptop. 

* * *

A couple more days had passed, exactly how many Sam couldn't say for sure, as he threw himself into his work, always keeping an ear out for news about the mystery creature that seemed to be killing people down in Miami. 

Late one night as he was uploading information onto his site, Sam chatted with a hunter talking about how he'd heard from a 'reliable source', AKA he'd probably overheard Dean questioning some bastard, the Miami beast had just lowered its standards. It had killed young pregnant women, ripping the baby right out of her womb. 

With a muttered curse and a sigh, Sam gathered his belongings from the cheap pay by the week motel and headed out, telling the manager to keep the rest of the week's rent. 

Sam might not have wanted to jump the gun on killing this thing before, giving it the benefit of the doubt, but now it was different. Heat or no heat, the thing would know what wasn't fertile soil for it, and a pregnant woman was soil that had already been plowed by someone else. 

Heading back toward the city, Sam frowned. He knew what Dean said, knew if he went back there and met up with the hunter again he might not be leaving with his life intact this time. Still, he couldn't just sit idly by, not when he had the power to stop it. Whatever [i]it[/i] was, if he shifted, they'd be on the same footing, same ground rules, and he'd have every chance of not only winning a fight, but killing the sonofabitch if he had to. He had yet to find anything that the panther couldn't handle. Why should this be any different. 

* * *

[One night later] 

Sam sat in Ruby's bar, talking softly with the bartender who had promised him a lot more than the score of Dezire, though that's all he wanted from her. He figured if a little flirting could maybe get him a little more information, what could it hurt? 

Dean had been watching the bar tenders closely. He needed to see who bought the drug and went off with anyone they didn't come in with. Yeah he'd seen that thing's human face, but there was a good possibility that it had more than one face, because he hadn't seen that woman again and if this was the only source of the drug... Then again, he couldn't follow everyone, and some people left here for the other clubs and bars, and were attacked later.

Seeing Sam there, he sucked his breath in. What was he doing here? Almost reluctantly, he walked to the bar and took the seat next to him, his gaze drinking up the sight of the man he was having too much trouble forgetting. "Thought you left town?"

Sam tore his gaze away from the brunette, to look over at Dean, not that he hadn't already seen him from the corner of his eye, smelled him from across the damn room. "Uh, I did. Came back though." He gave a nod as his gaze slid over Dean. "Having any luck?"

It was a long moment before he answered. "No. Everyone I followed out of here was a dead end."

"If you two are done, I can get your order."

"Done doing what?" Dean asked the bar tender, watched her cheeks flush. Yeah, _eye fucking_ was what she was thinking and she wasn't wrong. "Beer." Licking his lips, he looked back at Sam. "How ya been?"  
Sam gave a nod, raising a hand to motion to make it two beers. "Alright, I guess. How about you? Any lingering effects from your trip in Mr. Toad's wild ride?"

The bartender came back with their drinks and slid a small baggy across the bar to Sam that she hid under her hand. "Dessert." 

"Nah, I don't think so. I was gonna give the guy I was hunting with shit for leaving me," he shook his head. "Turns out _I_ told him to go, that we were done. I don't even remember doing that. I dunno if it was a drugged out me, or that thing shifted into me, though I don't think it made me." Reaching for his beer, he eyed the bartender's hand and gave Sam a look. "What are you doing? I told you what that stuff did to me."

Sam tore his gaze away from Dean to look up into the bartender's face, giving a small nod or thanks as he shoved the drugs into his pocket before looking back over at Dean. "Yeah," he nodded, reaching for his beer bottle, tilting it to his lips and taking a drink before pulling it away, "but I'm not you." Sam gave Dean a pointed look.

"No you're not me, you're not a hunter," he said, his voice tinged with iron as he tried to ignore what Sam _was_. "You're some guy who sits behind the computer and provides information, you have no business here, in the field." Yeah, he knew damned well that those pictures on Sam's site hadn't been taken from some desk. "And that thing... it's after _humans._ "  
Sam sighed as he listened to Dean, hands moving to slide into his pockets. "I'm more than some computer geek with a website and we both know it. Yeah, I realize what it's after," the corner of his lips quirked upward, "it's why it'll get the shit shocked out of it when it sees _me_." Sam waggled his brows, pulling to his feet. "Look, it's been good talkin' to you and," he frowned, shaking his head, "I'd love to stay and chat, but I seem to have a date waiting for me." He gave a tight sarcastic smile, "Gotta run."

"Hold on," Dean grabbed his arm. Immediately a jolt of heat ran up his arm, and it was all he could do to prevent himself from pulling Sam into his arms for just one kiss. "I got your back," he said, and nodded, sure he wouldn't be able to talk Sam out of it. "Don't disappear." 

Sam looked at Dean for a long moment before he gave a nod, "Yeah, alright. I should go do this shit in the bathroom or something. I'll, uh, be right back and we'll see about flushin' it out." his gaze moved up and down Dean's body, "You just stay back when it shifts. Let me handle it," he gave a nod, "okay?"

"Don't take it all." Dean nodded, not real happy, but it was gonna happen anyway. "It was a woman, with me anyway. I don't know if its human face is changeable, but I haven't seen her around." Though he spoke calmly, he felt the heat of Sam's gaze, and the thought of going to the bathroom with him. No, he needed to stay focused. Backsliding would only make things harder.

Sam gave a nod, "Woman," his gaze darted past Dean to look around the crowded bar a moment before darting back and locking with jade, "yeah, okay." Sam turned on his heels, heading toward the bathroom. "Gotta warn ya though," he added, looking back over his shoulder at Dean, "animals aren't real particular as far as the sex of the species goes," he shrugged a shoulder, "we just kinda love who we do. Humans," he nodded, "they're the ones who care what and who and think too much about it." with that, he turned back, walking down the narrow hall into the bathroom. 

The shit tasted like bar-b-qued dog ass, not that Sam had ever had any personally, but he was pretty sure _this_ would be what it tasted like. Dean hadn't mentioned that. But then, maybe to a human it wasn't so horrible, after all, they had approximately half the number of taste buds and glands in their mouths than a cat did, so hell, for all Sam knew maybe it tasked like cherry cheesecake to Dean. That thought had him making yet another face as he screwed the cap back on the tiny vial, tucking it away. He walked out the bathroom door, looking for all the world like a cat hacking up a hairball the way he kept moving his tongue around in his mouth, eyes squeezed nearly closed, trying to rid himself of the horrible taste.

The rest of the night was a blur. Dean watched from a distance as Sam was chatted up by both women and men. As he followed them out a few times, he had to rein in the urge to punch someone, especially when Sam's tongue was in their mouth. But each time that Sam walked the person to their car and refused to go along, there was no violence, and the person just got in their car and drove away.

Then the torture began again, with Dean having to watch Sam flirting with someone else.

Sitting at the table listening to the thousandth horrible pickup line of the night, Sam's head started to swim, his vision blurring as he looked over at the bubble headed blond with the bubble gum pink lipstick that was busily running her hand up his chest as she spoke low to him, her face nearly in his. 

He wasn't exactly one hundred percent sure why, but she was steadily pissing him off, _not_ turning him on. Her attempts at dirty talk only had him clenching his teeth as he glared at her through glazed eyes, that didn't seem quite capable of focusing correctly... unless there really were suddenly two of her. 

"Come on, baby, let's get out of here," she tugged at his shirt. 

Sam's blurred gaze dropped to her hand on him, his head hanging with the effort before he pulled it back up again. "No! I don't fucking want to go anywhere with you! You fuckin' skank ass slut! Get the fuck away from me!" he shouted suddenly, pulling to his feet, knocking his chair over as he did, before reaching down and overturning the table. "You people are fuckin' pathetic! You're worse than animals in heat and I-" he pointed at himself, nodding, "I ought to know!" 

A big burly man, nearly Sam's height and likely twice his weight walked over to him, grabbing Sam by the back of the shirt. "Alright, buddy, I think you've had enough," the guy told him, pushing Sam toward the door, despite the fact that Sam was struggling against him, still yelling and swearing loudly. 

Once outside the back door of the bar, the bouncier tossed Sam to the ground, not that it was really that hard to do as unsteady on his feet as Sam was getting. Sam lay on his back, forearms braced against the ground as he glared up at the guy who stood shaking his head at him. 

"You people really are stupid and easy aren't you?" the guy asked a second before Sam saw the change in the man's eyes as he started to shift. 

Deadly long claws struck Sam across the chest, just before his drugged mind managed to catch up and allowed him to shift. With a loud cry that pierced the night, the panther launched itself at the beast and the fight was on.

Dean was right behind them, but was shocked when the bouncer turned into the houndbeast. Sam had gotten out of hand in there, and Dean knew it had to be the drugs, but the bouncer taking action had seemed normal. Was the beast getting more desperate or what? It hadn't even taken Sam to the park or any lonely spot. 

"Dammit," his gun was in his hand, but Sam had chosen to shift which made it harder for dean to shoot since the two beasts were at each other. The silver bullet would take either of them out, permanently. "Stand down, Sam," he shouted, aiming, but not squeezing the trigger.

Then he noticed Sam's movements were sluggish. That drug seemed to be affecting him as much as it had Dean. As the houndbeast rolled them over, it became clear that it was trying to mount Sam. "Sonovabitch, Sam, get out of the way, Sam," he drew closer, but they were still moving too fast for him to take a shot.

Then the hound beast was on top of the black panther, and Dean walked up, put the gun to its head and shot... twice.

Sam's head was swimming too much and having to decide which of the two visions of the creature he was seeing was the real one slowed Sam's progress. It hit him late that he was fighting not for his life, but to make sure he did not become this things newest bitch boy. He'd snarled and snapped over his shoulder at the creature, but the drug made his efforts sluggish at best. Sam had his eyes squeezed closed bracing for the worst when the gunshots rang out loud and clear behind him and the thing's dead weight collapsed against his back. 

Nearly falling down to the ground under the creature, Sam managed to drag himself out from under it, looking back at Dean as he stood there, the smoking gun still in his hand. The panther curled its lip, showing rows of long pointed teeth, a loud cry ripping from the beast’s throat before Sam turned and started to run away, only to stagger after a few steps and fall, collapsing onto the cement.

For a moment, when the panther snarled at him, Dean raised his gun and pointed it at Sam. It was instinct, maybe on both sides. The panther realized he was a hunter. Stepping over the hound beast, he headed for the large cat.

"Sam, it's me," he said, not wanting to startle the beast. He still had the gun in his hand, just in case, as he got down on the ground with it. His hand hovered over its lush coat, then he stroked it over its chest. "Shift back, I can help you get home," he said gently, though he was still wary.

Brilliant green cat eyes looked over at Dean as he approached, the panther's body laying perfectly still save for the movement of those eyes as they tracked everything the hunter did. A low warning growl sounded deep in the panther's chest, even as Sam closed his eyes, his head sliding a little against the concrete as he pulled back. As Sam opened his eyes, one large paw rose to almost playfully shove at Dean's bent knee, though the effort was weak and sluggish. 

[Shift. Yeah, good idea. Just get me a pill from my super energy ring and I'll get right on that.] He would have huffed if he'd been able. [Who do I look like to you, Underdog?] 

The large jungle cat's mouth opened wide in a yawn, as his head turned, rolling on the cement, eyes dropping closed again.

"What the..." What he'd at first interpreted as an aggressive move was now clearly something else. More like the head butts that Sam liked to give him. Chuckling, Dean put his hand on the animal's shoulder. "Come on, shift... or I'm betting it's gonna be the zoo for you. Trust me, you wouldn't like it. Sam!" Putting his arms around the tremendous cat, he made an effort to pull it up.

Shifting. It took a hell of a lot of effort on Sam's part, even on a good day, when he was one hundred percent, it was enough to wear him out if he shifted back and forth this close together. Dean did have a point though, if he stayed in panther form, he was liable to become the next act in the circus, not to mention there was probably no way that Dean was going to be able to carry him anywhere like this. Not that Dean carrying him as a human would be much easier if they were seen because he'd be butt naked and hard to explain. Then again, even if weight wasn't an issue, carrying a panther would be just as weird and there would be the chance he'd accidentally scratching Dean's face off. 

Pulling his large panther head up, Sam turned his face toward Dean, drugged eyes half open as he moved a paw, weakly, pressing back at Dean, to tell him to wait a minute. Hoping the hunter would understand. Laying back against the ground, Sam started to shift, it was slower than normal, his drugged body and brain having a hard time with the process, tendons popping and bones snapping, shifting, muscles tensing and bulging as he grit his teeth against the pain. A cat cry that soon morphed into a human scream tore from his throat before Sam's body went slack, eyes closed as he collapsed to the ground unconscious.

Dean held his breath the entire time Sam was changing from the cat to a human. The cry that went from animal to a human shout creeped him out even as he wondered whether it was painful, or just part of morphing. He shook himself out of inaction and started to think about how the hell he was going to get a naked man to his car before the cops arrived. Behind him, there was already a commotion over the dead beast.

"Sam, oh God." He realized the guy was out cold. "Alright." Sliding his arms under Sam's arm pits, he heaved him up, cursing at Sam's weight. It took a little doing, but he had him over his right shoulder in a fireman's carry, and he casually walked past the crowd. "How ya doing?" He asked one of the people staring wide eyed.

Another one, who'd been snapping pictures of the dead beast, aimed her camera toward them. Turning, Dean made sure she got a great picture of Sam's ass. "Do me a favor, sweetheart, send me a copy?" He called out one of his throwaway e-mail addresses, and headed down the street to the Impala, wearing a grin.

* * *

Dean sat at the desk. He'd finished cleaning and oiling his gun and was putting it back together when he noticed the soft purring sound had stopped. Looking over at the bed, he locked gazes with hazel eyes. "Told you that drug wouldn't be a pleasant trip." 

Sam lay on the bed watching the hunter, though it didn't seem to take him long to notice. _Oh right, the purring._ Licking his lips, Sam turned his head. "What time is it?" he asked softly, voice still sleep rough. Rolling over onto his stomach Sam stretched, arms up over his head in the pillows, hands clasped against the head board, back arching, muscles rippling and flexing under tanned flesh as the blanket slipped low on Sam's hips. Yawning he slumped back down against the pillow, relaxing, his eyes closing. Sam lifted his head with a sniff as he opened his eyes again. "Yeah, that stuff makes catnip seem like a walk in the park, but at least we got the creature," his lips quirked as he looked at Dean, "or you did."

Did he know how those movements of his affected him? Dean could have looked down at the gun in his hand, or anywhere else, but his gaze was drawn to the bare flesh revealed by Sam's stretches, as well as the parts covered by the thin sheet. Forbidden fruit from now on, he told himself. 

"It's not about the credit, it's about getting the kill done," he answered, though his mind was elsewhere. "I taped you. I'm gonna keep it," he said, raising his chin and waiting for a challenge. The purring sound file Sam had sent him was short and required Dean to keep replaying. This one went for a couple of hours. He didn't know why, but it helped him sleep. It also helped him come, but that was a whole other fucked up issue. 

Sam smiled, a soft chuckle working out of him. "Dude, just buy a cat," he sat up, swinging his legs off the bed, "or go to a shelter and pick one up." Stark naked, he pulled to his feet and shook his head, "they do the same thing, only they're a little less self conscious about it." He gave a nod as if agreeing with himself. "Um," his gaze darted about the room, "my clothes?" he shook his head, "You didn't happen to get some outta my car did you?"

"Your car? No." As if he'd known where Sam's car was. He stared dumbly at Sam standing there naked and in the flesh, confirming that Dean's memories of how damned good he looked, how he was built, it wasn't some mental exaggeration. "Did you look any different before the curse," he asked without thinking. Yeah, if he'd been thinking, he'd have offered clothes.

Sam frowned, thinking about that. "Um, no not really. I mean, I guess I packed on a few more muscles, but not a lot," he shrugged, looking down at himself, "and I certainly didn't have a rough tongue back then, but other than that, I guess I look the same." He lifted his head, hazel green meeting jade. "Why?"

"No reason, I was just wondering, that's all." Pushing away from the table, Dean went to his duffel bag and pulled out some shorts, a tee and some loose cotton sweat pants with a draw string at the waist. "Here," he brought the clothes over. "I guess I can drive you to your car. Or... you want a coffee? I can go bring some while you change."

Sam smiled as he took the clothes, before his gaze met Dean's and he sucked his bottom lip into his mouth, brows furrowing. "Um, could I get you to make that milk instead of coffee?" he asked, nearly blushing as he tore his gaze away to look back down at the clothes, shaking them out. 

"Are you kidding me? You're not kidding me." Shaking his head but chuckling, Dean all but ran for the door. If he saw Sam bend over... it would be over.

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, he was back and handing Sam a large cup of steamed milk. He had his own coffee in hand, and though he liked Sam in his shirt, the tight pants... He blinked and moved away, closer to the door. The tension crackled between them even if they both were desperately trying to act as if it wasn't there. 

"Those drugs, you know if they spread ... start selling everywhere, more of those houndbeasts are gonna come out to play."

Sam pressed his lips together, brow furrowing as he gave a thoughtful nod before taking a drink of his milk, looking up at Dean over the rim of his cup. Pulling the cup down, Sam licked his lips. "Thoughts on how to get an illegal drug off the streets? Cause if you have an idea, I'm sure the cops would like to hear it for all the other ones out there. I think the best thing we can do is put the news out there, let other hunters know what this thing is, what it does." 

Dean nodded. "Not much else that can be done. At least the information will be out there. And maybe the damned drug won't be popular. Made me feel like shit, I don't know why anyone would want it." He took a sip of his drink, eyes still on Sam. He'd thought he'd never see him again and was glad he had. But it definitely made things harder.

Tearing his gaze from the window, Sam turned, giving a nod. "Yeah," his gaze slid over Dean from head to toe and back. "Well," he offered a small slight smile, "I guess I should be going." He tore his gaze away to look toward the door, "I can... I can send you your clothes," he looked back, shaking his head, "I don't want -" he sighed, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth for a moment. "I _can't_ stay here," he smiled sadly and hung his head. "It only makes it harder later." 

Lifting his head, Sam took a deep breath, reaching out to set his nearly empty cup on the table, before his gaze met Dean's once more. "You take care of yourself, Dean," he told him, turning toward the door, reaching out to grip the handle. "Maybe you should look into getting yourself that cat," Sam said softly, pausing. He looked back over his shoulder, giving a small shrug. "They aren't really a hassle to have around. Mostly take care of themselves. Just gotta love them and they'll purr forever for ya." He smiled softly, tearing his gaze away and stepping out the door, pulling it closed behind him. 

Dean would have offered Sam a ride to his car. Hell he thought he was gonna drive him, but hearing the caution in Sam's voice, he knew this was better. "Wouldn't know how to take care of a pet," he whispered, running his hand over his face and feeling like his organs had just been wrenched out of him. Shower, bed, and then move on... like you always do, he told himself. He'd made and lost a lot of friends in his life, not like he saw the same people over and over. This was the same. Just the same. No fucking different.

_But it was... different._


	6. Chapter 6

[Three Weeks Later]

Dean paced his room. God, the only way he got sleep these days was listening to that purring. And the only way he got satisfying sex was by imagining he was with Sam instead of some random girl or guy. And even then, it wasn't the same. He'd gone so far as to ask a guy to drape himself and over his stomach after they had sex, but the guy had done it all wrong and... fuck, Dean had thrown him out.

Was he losing it? He'd gone to Sam's website so many times and read every newly added post. He'd scoured for any hint of something that was meant for him, but found nothing. Did he have a reason to find anything? No. Still...

He looked at the phone in his hand, and finally started to text Sam. 

_Where are you? I'm bored in Texas._

*

There had been reports of some big creature picking off livestock left and draining them of blood, and then people had started going missing. So Sam trekked to Texas, out in the middle of Bumfuck nowhere in a town called Buffalo Gap. Woods were in abundance and that seemed to be where this thing came out from. Initial reports had it sounding like a vampire, later ones implied something more. Maybe a chupacabra? Ha! That would be a hell of a thing seeing as the reason he'd gone to the Amazon was to get pictures of the damned thing. Instead, he'd ended up with his life screwed around backward by a damned curse and not a single picture. And now that thing was right here in the good ole U.S. of A? Yeah, that would be his luck. 

He was out in the field, crouching next to a stream and taking photos of an area where cow remains hadn't been cleaned up so well, when his cell gave a ‘beep.’ Reaching one hand into the pocket of his jacket, he pulled it out pulled out and looked down. A slow smile pulled at his lips even as he half wondered what this was about and half didn't care. He was just 'glad to hear from the hunter. 

_I'm in the middle of nowhere. Texas. Looking at the bloody guts of a cow. You?_

_Austin. Have to do something about my car. Maintenance. You're looking into the cattle deaths? Heard there's a vampire nest. Be careful. Then again... they might like how you hiss back._ It was funny, that he could joke about that now. Imagining Sam's bitchface, he laughed out loud.   
Sam’s eyes narrowed at the words. "How I hiss..." he scoffed under his breath, shaking his head. _Never know, they might be into cat food. Maybe I should call myself a good hunter... damn, wish I knew one._ Sam snickered as he sent the response. 

_Bitch_ Dean instantly responded.

Sam chuckled at the text, shaking his head. _We had this conversation before. I think you have that backwards._

 _Jerk._ Grinning and feeling a little easier, a little more relaxed, Dean pocketed the phone and walked out of the room to get himself a cold beer. 

* * *

A couple of days passed and Dean was on Sam's website again when he saw the 'site owner is online' symbol. Licking his lips, he started to instant message him. " _Congrats. Great pics of those vamps. Was that Gordon?_ " There had been a picture of a hunter in the background and only part of his face showed but Dean recognized him, or so he thought. " _Stay away from him._ "

Sam's brows furrowed as he read the instant message, though an instant smile pulled at his lips seeing it was Dean. " _Gordon? Dunno, didn't stick around for the blood testing and interview section of the meet and greet your friendly neighborhood vampires... but thanks. It was nice getting those photos, I know a lot of hunters were counting on them._ "

 _"I meant the hunter in the picture. I'm serious, he's hardcore. Stay away from him. Yes?"_ Dean needed an answer.

Sam smirked, _"I dunno... we had a date planned for later."_ He waited a pause, then added, _"Yes, of course. I don't go around looking for hunters to... hang out with."_

 _"Ass. Guess that's why I lo_ Dean quickly deleted the last word. _"... like you. Anyway, I'm tracking this big thing. Can't say much about it yet. What about you, where are you at? I was thinking since you travel a lot and have that website, you should keep a list of good places to eat. And btw, is that a new charge on the site for hieroglyphic translations?"_

Sam chuckled. _"Yeah, it's a new charge. I wouldn't want to be accused of not nickel and diming my readers to death now would I? As for the ideas of places to eat... I doubt we would agree. Remember the milk in the morning?_ He sent the text, frowning thoughtfully, _"What new big thing? I mean, anything I can do to help?"_

 _"Just tell me the name of the place you last ate at. Oh, and give me a damned discount."_ He sent the instant message, then opened up email, attached the picture he wanted, and sent that too. _"Or I could blackmail you for it. Check your e-mail."_

Sam huffed softly, "Blackmail me-" he opened up the email, his eyes widening as he gave a small chuckle at a picture of himself draped over Dean's shoulder, his bare ass vividly displayed for the camera. Oh Lord... He hung his head a moment before pulling it up, opening photobucket and making a small icon out of the picture. Moving it to the instant message window. He typed. _"I think maybe I should use it as my new logo for the site? What do you think? It's kinda flattering... I could tell people that this is how hard I work for them... Oh and yeah, I can get that reading to you... no charge... you know, with the blackmail and all..._

Dean was chuckling hard, both imagining Sam's reaction and loving how he rolled with it. _"I'll hold you to that. Name of restaurant? Quick, gotta go do something."_

Sam frowned. Restaurant? Damn, he really wasn't letting this go was he? What the hell? _"If you must know, the last place I ate was this little outta the way restaurant in downtown called, T & G's. It was expensive though, I dunno if it's something you're looking for."_

"Expensive, not fucking surprised," Dean muttered under his breath. _"When I start nickel and diming I'll be right there with you. Later."_ Dean sent the message, then added, _"Take care."_

Sam smiled almost sadly. _"I'd lo-"_ Sam erased that quickly. _"If you’d been there with me, it would have been a much better time. You take care of yourself too, Dean."_

"Yeah Sam... it would have," Dean agreed out loud, shutting down his lap top. He had a creature to catch. 

* * *

One day later, Dean was standing in the parking lot of T & G's with his map laid across the trunk and drawing a circle for the distance Sam could have gone in 24 hours, driving say six to ten hours of that time. For a non-hunter, the guy moved around a lot, damn him. Pulling his cell out, he checked the weather reports for several potential locations Sam might have gotten to, then he swapped to text mode.

 _"Hey, how's the weather where you are? Drizzles got me down."_ He looked up at the perfectly clear sky and smiled.

Sam stood at the edge of a small cliff overlooking a bluff, sunglasses pushed up onto his head, holding his long bangs back as he took a few photos, more for himself than for the website. With a sigh, he pulled the camera down and got his phone, a slow smile spreading across his lips. _"Cloudy, but not raining. Not yet. Was sunny as hell not too long ago, probably just blowing through. Where you at?"_

_"I'd have to kill you if I told you."_ Dean hit send, then slapped the heel of his hand against his forehead and followed up with _"Sorry. Wasn't thinking. This thing I'm chasing is fucking smart and travels fast, kinda making me crazy."_ He let out a breath and hoped Sam would answer after that idiotic comment he'd made.

As Sam read, his smile slowly fell, a sigh leaving him. As much as he liked to hear from Dean, as much as he tried not to let it give him hope, it did... until something like this smacked him in the face and pointed out all over again that they could never be. That Dean could never want him like that. 

_"Yeah, I know how that can be. Sorry to hear you're having a bad time of it..."_ Sam turned, walking back toward his car, _"I'm about to take off. I'll talk to you later. Good luck with that hunt."_ Sam sent the message as he tugged open the car door, sliding his cell back into the case. 

Cursing himself, Dean dropped the phone into his pocket gathered the map and decided to head for the most likely areas he'd thought Sam might be in. He'd drive the rest of the day, and all night, and if his hunch was right, he'd be damned close.

*

 _"Ordering lunch at drive-through and am bored. Sorry man, about yesterday."_ He hoped that stupid comment hadn't chased Sam off completely. _"What's the strangest thing you've seen today?"_

 _"A midget dancing with a bear.... I think the bear was leading."_ Sam frowned at the circus tent as he sat in his car, staring out the window.

 _"Really?"_ Dean pumped his fist in the air. He'd just passed a sign on the highway, an ad for a traveling circus outside of town. Instead of continuing, he got off and headed for the town center. "Yatzee!" It was a small town, which meant fewer motels, and, assuming he had the right place, Sam's ass was his. _"Careful of the clowns, I hear they’re not trustworthy. It's late, shouldn't you be relaxing in your room?"_   
Sam tore his gaze from the tent to look down at his cell. _"You worried about my cat naps now? And no, no worries on the clowns. I have a... um, thing about clowns. They freak me the hell out."_

 _"Good reason then to get outta there pronto, I have it on good authority most circuses come with clowns. Getting close to what I'm hunting now. Damned frustrating when the thing you're after is ALMOST as smart as you are,"_ he grinned as he drove into a gas station that had a phone booth complete with a phone book, as well as a mini mart. 

_"Who said I was at a circus? This is my family reunion."_ Sam sent it, a laugh bubbling out of his throat as he waited for Dean's reply.

For a minute, Dean was taken aback. Then he was laughing. _"I believe you. Go get some sleep. Maybe you'll dream of me."_ His finger hovered over the send button, then he did it... pressed send. 

Sam chuckled before his smile slowly slid away. His fingers paused over the keys as he thought about whether or not to type the words that instantly came to mind. _"I usually do."_ He pressed the send button and turned his cell off not wanting to find out if the hunter had something negative to say about that. Tucking his cell away, Sam started his car, pulling away from the circus site. 

* * *

A few hours later, Dean pulled his car up next to Sam's in the parking lot of the motel. Ten minutes and $30 bucks later, he was in front of Sam's motel room. He'd taken more care than usual dressing and even had a light after shave on. He also had a bag from the quickie mart in his hand. 

Pulling his cell out of his pocket, he started texting.

_"I got it! Sonovabitch that kept slipping through my fingers. By the way, are you dressed?"_

Sam frowned over at his cell as he walked out of the bathroom, towel slung low on his hips as he ran another towel over his wet head. Picking up his cell, he smiled shaking his head. _"Great, glad to hear you got it. Dressed?"_ he glanced down at himself before continuing. _"Oh yeah, three piece suit. Yeah, I'm ready to paint the town red,"_ he sent the text with a roll of his eyes, dropping his cell back down on the dresser and walking back into the bathroom.

Grinning like an idiot, Dean pulled the carton of half and half out of the bag, crushed the bag and shoved it into his pocket. Taking a deep breath, he knocked on the motel door, his heart pounding against his chest at the thought of seeing Sam again, though he was a little nervous of what Sam’s reaction might be.

Walking out of the bathroom, hair combed back from his face, Sam walked over to the door. Unlocking the deadbolt but not the chain, he peered out. His eyes widened as he stared at Dean. His mouth opened and shut, but no sound came initially. "Uh..." Sam slammed the door, unhooked the chain and reopened it, his hands going to the towel at his waist, tightening it as he offered a small nervous smile. "Um, hi."

"Such a liar... three piece suit. Though have to say, I like this look... better," Dean said huskily, dragging his eyes from Sam's half naked body to his face. "It's not wine but... I have it on good authority that cats like this even better than milk." He licked his lips. "Can I come in?"

Sam glanced down at his half covered state, his smile growing. Like he knew Dean was going to show up. Jokes like that didn't really work well when the person you were bullshitting ended up on your door step. He licked his lips, his gaze running hungrily over Dean. "Huh, half and -" he snickered, glancing down at the container, before his eyes darted back up to Dean's. "Oh," he took a step back, nodding. "Yeah, come in." 

Sam let Dean inside and closed the door behind him, throwing the lock. "So," Sam shifted his weight, brows furrowed as he shook his head. "I don't understand. Why are you here?" Sam asked. "I mean, it's not that I don't want you to be, but, I mean... I just-" His frown deepened. "Why are you here again?"

Dean set the carton down on a table and turned to face Sam. "I wish I could say I was 'in heat' cause that would be an easy explanation," he said, tensing slightly. "Or that I like the purring and need it to sleep. It's true, but I have the recording now so..." he shrugged. "I just... I miss you," he said, nodding. "I didn't expect to. I thought it would go away but..." he sliced his hand through the air. "It hasn't and the texting, it's not... it's not enough." He glanced at the door and back at Sam. "Don't mean to put you on the spot."

Sam's chest ached at Dean's words, a look of pain crossing his features. "I'm still," he dropped his gaze to the floor, then looked back up at Dean. "What I am. I can't - nothing has changed for me. I wanted you before, I want you now, but -" he shook his head, unshed tears stinging his eyes. "You're a hunter and I'm not 'normal'." He gave a small sad smile. 

"Yeah, I know. That's why the half and half not beer," Dean answered quietly. "I know what I am, and what you are. I don't care. You're not hurting anyone. I know what I said before, how I felt about it. I changed my mind." He licked his lips. "Look, part of it was if we're... you know, hanging out together, you'd meet more hunters, be in more danger. But you do that anyway and maybe I could watch your ass." As he said it, he let his eyes slide down Sam's body and sort of leaned to the side to get a look at that towel clad ass. 

Sam gave a strained chuckle, his gaze following Dean's to glance over his shoulder at his own ass, before returning to Dean's face as he nodded. "That means the next time you're hunting something and it looks like it could be a panther, if I've been out," he shook his head, "you have to trust me. Believe in me. I'm not a murderer." 

"You didn't even know me when I was stabbed and you helped me. You're not a killer," Dean agreed. "I know that now. I should have known sooner but... you know when things go right? Like meeting you, feeling like there's someone out there I'm totally in tune with? I just... In my experience when things seem too good to be true, they are. I assumed the worst." It was a lot more complicated than that. He'd felt betrayed because Sam wasn't who he pretended, but later, he realized there was no good or safe way for Sam to tell him his secret. 

Sam gave a tight smile as he nodded. "You assumed I was a hunter and a normal guy," he gave a shrug. "I would have too. Used to be, more or less. I just don't kill the things I find, I leave that up to you guys." This time the smile was genuine. "Sometimes you have to believe that things are gonna work out in the end, otherwise," he shook his head, "there's nothing left to wake up for."

"Maybe that's why I've been spending a lot of time sleeping to the sound of your voice," Dean answered. It was hard for him to share his feelings but with Sam, it was a little easier. Also, a part of him realized it was necessary if he didn't want this opportunity to slip through his fingers.

With a small huffed smile, Sam took a step closer to Dean, reaching out to cup his cheek, thumb ghosting over his cheekbone before Sam leaned in, rubbing his face against Dean's, a soft purr sounding deep in his throat. "I missed you," Sam told him softly.

"Missed you," Dean answered huskily, closing his arms around Sam and holding still as Sam rubbed against him. "Missed this." His hands roamed over Sam's back and his ass, and he pulled Sam up harder against his frame, wanting evidence that this was real, that he was with the man who'd been haunting his dreams. Waiting for the opportunity, he head butted Sam. Once, twice... then a third time, just to be sure there was no misunderstanding. It was no accident, and his eyes said so as they locked with slightly slanted greens.

Staring at Dean for a long moment, Sam reached up and cupped each side of Dean's jaw and forced him to walk a couple of steps until Dean's back hit the wall. Leaning in, Sam nuzzled against Dean's throat, then licked him, slow drawn out deliberate licks up the side of Dean's neck, like a cat cleaning itself, or its mate, tasting, enjoying the other. The low purr that seemed to be reserved for Dean was back full force, sounding from deep in Sam's chest as he slowly licked every area of Dean's neck and throat, first one side, then the other. His hands slowly slid down from the hunter's jaw to his chest, nimble digits working at the buttons on his shirt. "We'll nickel and dime some poor bastard to death and I'll buy you a new one," Sam whispered against the skin of Dean's neck, hot breath ghosting over his flesh a moment before Sam ripped the shirt open and nearly tore it off. 

Sounds of pleasure broke from Dean as he was reminded of how gifted Sam was with his textured tongue. The sensations he managed to cause were so fucking erotic. All he could do was hang onto Sam and let him work his way around his throat. His mouth ached to be kissed, but he let Sam have his way. Then his clothes were torn off and he gave an audible intake of breath. "Am I about to be mauled?" he asked thickly, his hands going down to Sam's towel and tugging it off. "Just a warning... I like to do my own share of mauling," he said, his hands sweeping down to cup Sam's smooth firm ass and groaning as their bodies collided. 

Sam pulled his head back and searched Dean's face. "You can maul me all you want to," he told him softly, hips grinding against Dean's. He started to lean in only to pause, looking into Dean's eyes. "Just a warning... I might like it." His lips quirked into a small smile as he leaned in, slanting his mouth over Dean's, his hands lowering, sliding down Dean's body to the waistband of his jeans, tugging apart the button and zipper, busting them wide open, the button tumbling to the floor to roll away under the bed. 

"You don't need pants," Sam whispered against Dean's lips. "You can just stay naked, all the time." Plunging his tongue into Dean's mouth, he tangling it with Dean's. 

Practically lapping Sam's rough tongue, Dean ground his hips against Sam's, moaning as he felt Sam's cock pressing against his hip. "Jesus... you have no idea how you make me feel," he whispered hotly, his fingers dipping into the cleft of Sam's ass as he welded their mouths together again. He'd driven long and hard, trying to find this man... thought about this moment so often, and now it was real.   
He pushed Sam back a little, his eyes traveling slowly down Sam's all male physique. He was so fucking hot, he had Dean ready to come in his pants. Still watching, admiring Sam, Dean started to push his jeans and shorts down. Grabbing Sam's hand and bringing it to his own cock even before he was completely undressed, Dean made a demand. "Maul me."

Sam's large hand wrapped around Dean's cock, his gaze still locked with the hunter’s as he took a step forward, before he sank to his knees before Dean, leaning forward as his tongue darted out, licking Dean's cock and circling the crown. Suddenly taking Dean deep into his mouth, he swallowed around his length. His rough tongue flicked along the underside of Dean's cock as Sam worked his mouth up and down the hunter's shaft, fisted hand pumping its base as he hummed and purred.

"Oh God... wanted this... since the first moment you said 'no'... wanted this," Dean said, hands flat against the wall as he leaned in. "If I'd know how it would feel, your tongue... Think I'd have tied you up till you gave it up," he managed to say as Sam did things to him that no one else... no human could. His cock sank deep inside the wet heat of Sam's mouth and the strong vibrations sent intense sensations up Dean's dick and skittering across every nerve in his body. His stomach tensed as he started to thrust into Sam's mouth, looking down at him, watching him take his dick over and over. "Good... so good. I'll stay naked as long as you want," he promised unevenly. "Thought about this... as I tracked you... thought about this, and more."  
Sam's free hand rose to cup Dean's balls, squeezing as he worked his cock, lapping at him, purring and humming, his fisted hand stroking his length in hard long pulls. Brows furrowing at Dean's words, Sam pulled his head back, hand pausing on his cock and balls. "You tracked me? Why were you tracking me?"

"I'm in heat?" He cocked his head. "Why do you think? Oh God, can we chat _later?_ " He so fucking hard it was impossible to keep himself from pushing into Sam's mouth. "Really need to fuck..." Nudging his pulsing cock closer, he slapped his hand against the wall. "Please!"

"Could'a just called me." Sam mumbled, taking Dean's cock deep into his mouth and purring as his hand worked Dean's shaft, simply holding the tip of Dean's cock against his vibrating throat as he stroked the hell out of him, wrist pivoting as he pumped his hard flesh, his other hand squeezing his balls. 

"Did, Mmmngh..." he let out a hot breath, fucking Sam's fist and the wet heat of his throat, another first for him. "Texted... emailed... IM'd... you..." he licked his lips. "You never _got_ the message. Thought cats were smart." His hand curled into a fist against the wall as he started to fuck a little harder. "You answered... but you never _heard_ me." 

Giving a rueful grin, Dean suddenly stopped Sam from working him, and dropped down. Kneeling in front of Sam, he focused on his lover's tempting mouth. "S'okay... I like a challenge."

"Didn't think you wanted that from me," Sam answered softly, "and it's not that cats are so smart, we're just classier than dogs, we show affection and if we get ignored, we don't bother again. Go elsewhere for our affection." His gaze darted over Dean's face. "Works out okay usually cause we’re just so damn cute that people call us back." He smiled, "unless they're dog..." Eyeballing Dean, he added, "you're not a dog person are you?" Sam leaned in, slanting his mouth over Dean's, rough tongue darting inside the hunter's mouth, a low moaned purr breaking from Sam's throat.

Dean wasn't too happy with Sam's answer that he'd go with others, but what the fuck could he say? Then they were kissing and he couldn't think anymore. Cupping the back of Sam's head with one hand, he moved his other one up and down Sam's back, molding him against his body, moving his hips to get the pressure he needed against his cock, groaning when it slid past Sam's. "I don't know what I am... other than here, with you." 

Pulling back, Dean dropped down on his hands to grab his jacket. Searching its pockets desperately, he returned with the lube. Yeah, he'd been optimistic. Kneeling once again in front of Sam, he reached behind his lover and poured some lube down Sam's crack. Dropping the lube, he drew Sam up against him. 

"Mmm.... I think you did that on purpose," Sam mumbled softly, his lips against Dean's, tongue darting out to lick across the hunters full bottom lip. The question in Dean's eyes had Sam smirking. "The lube," he answered with a nod, "so I would arch against you. I think you have a thing for cats." His smirk fell away and his eyes slowly slipped closed as Dean worked him open. The first brush of Dean's finger over his prostate had a low moan tearing from his throat and left him panting for more. 

Dean thrust his hips against Sam's to push him rhythmically back against his finger. "I dunno... I think I have a thing for _one_ cat," Dean answered, kissing Sam's lower lip, then his upper lip, making love to his mouth from the outside and eagerly kissing and licking Sam's tongue when it darted out. He was hard. They both were. Rubbing and grinding against Sam, Dean had to admit he tried to touch his lover in ways that made him arch. And holy fuck, whenever Sam did, it drew a deep groan from Dean. 

It started to get hot and heavy between them. Dean sat down on his heels, pulling Sam over his lap, legs straddling Dean's hips. He never withdrew his finger, as he started lifting up his hips, his thigh muscles straining with his efforts to get close to Sam. Their cock's rubbed, were trapped between their bodies. "God... need you so bad," he ground out, precum leaking steadily from his cock. Eyes locked, they fucked against each other, their movements growing more desperate. 

"Against the wall," Dean suddenly demanded. 

Clenching around Dean's fingers, Sam moaned, lips parting as he panted for air. "You want me against the wall, you're gonna have to remove those so I can get there." Smirking at Dean who'd retaliated by calling him a "bitch" as he pulled his fingers out of his ass, Sam dropped down on all fours. 

Practically dumbstruck, Dean stared at the sight of Sam crawling slowly toward the wall with his ass held high in the air. His sinewy muscles rippled and flexed under smooth sun kissed skin as he moved with fluid grace that radiated raw power. _Beautiful._

Reaching the wall, Sam pulled up onto his knees, raising his hands up, palms flat against the cheap wallpaper, his head turned to the side to look at Dean. "On my knees or standing?"

"'On my knees?' Are you trying to make me come?" Dean asked gruffly, moving up behind Sam on his knees, hands sliding up and down Sam's sides leaning in to kiss him. His rock hard dick pressed insistently against Sam's ass, pulsing, aching so bad that his need eclipsed everything else. When he pulled his head back, their lips parted with a wet sound. 

Need thrumming through his body, Dean looked down and aligned his cock, rubbing his tip back and forth over Sam's puckered hole knowing how sensitive that area was. He tried to make the moment last but when he couldn't take it anymore, he gripped Sam's hips and pulled him back just a little, then dragged him down as he lifted his hips and impaled him with a single strong thrust. "Oh fuck..." he groaned, arching as Sam's muscles spasmed tightly around his thick cock. He fought hard against the need to ease the fire building low in his belly. Leaning forward, he pressed his mouth against the back of Sam's neck and rasped, "tell me when."

Sam's head tilted back, eyes squeezing closed as he gasped for air through parted lips and adjusted to Dean's cock filling his ass, stretching him wide. Hands against the wall, curling into fists, as he panted his breaths, a low moan tore from his throat. Slowly, he pulled his head up, his eyes opening to reveal elongated pupils. "Now," he mumbled breathlessly, giving a nod as he pulled himself away, forcing Dean's cock to move in his ass, then pressing back, "oh God, yeah, now..."

"Yeah?" Dean groaned as Sam slammed against him, forcing Dean's cock deep inside Sam. "Christ..." Biting his lip, Dean fought harder for control. "So good... so tight baby," he whispered against Sam's throat and started to thrust. He had one arm around Sam's waist, the other across his chest and was rubbing pinching Sam's flat nipple until it pebbled. "Gonna fuck you so hard... so hard," he threatened, his breath ghosting over Sam's sensitive flesh. "You want it don't you..." he was thrusting so maddeningly slow, even he wanted to scream.

Sam squeezed his eyes closed, a tortured expression etched on his face, "Yeah, oh God yeah... fuck me harder... yeah, Dean..." Sam panted, back arching as he clenched his muscles, tightening his ass, his inner muscles contracting around Dean's cock, a snarl finally tearing from his throat. 

Need slammed into Dean so hard, he could barely breath. _Hard... harder... fuck_ The words echoed in his head and had him so wound up, he was whispering almost unintelligibly as he started to fuck Sam with abandon, burying himself to the balls with each thrust. Their bodies slapped noisily together. He pulled Sam's hips slightly back, then moved faster and faster, sounds breaking from his throat each time he drove deep inside his lover, wanting to be even deeper, so deep Sam would never forget this... would remember for days how Dean had branded him from the inside. 

Moving in time with Dean's thrusts, pushing himself back against Dean before thrusting his hips forward, Sam groaned, mewling, as he writhed back against Dean's body, breaths panting out hard between parted lips. "Yeah, oh God, yeah..."

Pinching Sam's nipple, Dean dragged his hand possessively down Sam's body, hand splaying over his rock hard abs before closing around Sam's pulsing cock and squeezing. He started to stroke to the same rhythm he was fucking Sam, kissing his neck and ear, and demanding hotly that Sam give him his mouth. 

Sam gasped a breath as Dean's hand closed around his aching cock, his hips thrusting hard, pushing his dick into Dean's fisted hand. "Yeah..." he hissed in a breath between his teeth, lips parting as his mouth opened, head tilting back, heat rushing through his veins to pool down in his lower belly and making his dick pulse in the hunters hand. 

Muscles tensing, Sam ached against Dean, hips thrusting his cock harder into Dean's fisted hand as he pushing back against the cock buried deep in his ass, his balls drawing up painfully tight to his body. "Oh yes, oh God, Deeeean!!!" Sam called out, face flushed, nipples pebble hard, muscles tensed and locked, the first ribbon of cum shooting from his cock painting the wall and coating the hunters fist.

"Hell yeah," Dean echoed, dragging Sam's body against his, holding him in place for a few heartbeats, then thrusting again, grinding into him as he shouted out his release. "Oh God... fuck..." he ground his mouth against Sam's throat as waves of heat wracked his body and kept him thrusting. His hand slowed, then he let Sam's cock slip out of his fingers and brought his hand up Sam's chest, then to his own mouth, tasting Sam as he finished coming inside him. "Beautiful... that was fucking beautiful." 

He moved his mouth across Sam's shoulder, nipping him softly, then made a demand. "Gimme your tongue." As soon as Sam did, they were kissing, tongues tangling at a slow leisurely pace, Dean groaning at the feel of Sam's textured tongue rubbing over his. "If you'd never... never let me kiss you, I'd have been deprived," he murmured, remembering the times Sam had refused to kiss him. "You know... it hurt when you wouldn't... before."

Sam's heavy breaths fanned Dean's neck as he fought to catch his breath, eyes slowly closing. "I know," he answered softly, drawing in a deep breath, his eyes opening. "I didn't really have much of a choice though. You would have felt the difference and..." he didn't finish, they both knew what had happened when Dean _did_ find out he wasn’t human.

"Yeah." He brushed his lips against Sam's. "I'm sorry about that. What happened." Bringing his hand to the side of Sam's face, he stroked his cheek and strong jaw. "Could have turned out so bad. Never again," he whispered in a thick, emotion-filled voice. "Don't laugh... I think I love you." He'd never said those words to anyone before.   
Lifting his head, Sam turned at the waist, reaching back to cup Dean's cheek, cat-like hazel green eyes intent on jade as he shook his head slowly. "Would never laugh at that," Sam told him softly, his gaze darting to Dean's lips then back up to his eyes, the corners of his lips quirking upward slightly. "Love you too," he answered, leaning in to slant his mouth over Dean's.

"Yeah... gathered that," Dean said, giving a smug grin as he was kissed. His hand slid up and down Sam's arms, holding him close, almost not wanting to pull out of him. Slowly, reluctantly he did just that, and returned to the kiss, only this time, he whirled Sam around to face him and drew him fully into his arms. 

Rubbing the sides of his face against Dean's cheeks, Sam started to purr, nuzzling and rubbing first one side of Dean's face and neck and then the other, head butting him gently and licking his skin, along his neck and jaw line, as Sam held onto the hunter, arms wrapped around him, one hand splayed in the center of Dean's back. 

Dean chuckled and tried to kiss Sam even as he was being groomed or marked. Ten minutes later, though, after having had Sam rub his face and neck all over him, Dean finally asked, "How long is this gonna take? I wanted to take you out. Was supposed to be date first... who knew you'd come to the door naked?" 

Sam smiled against Dean's skin. "Until you smell like me, _only_ me," he answered, "and after I'm done savoring your taste," he added, licking Dean once more before slowly pulling his head up. "A date?"

"Yeah... date. Clothing is not optional." Getting up and shaking his legs out, Dean pulled Sam up. "You're gonna have to get clothes from my car. Destroyed mine," he pointed out, kissing him one last time. 

"You want me to go out like this?" he groaned, heading for the door, "Okay..." a smirk pulling at his lips.

"No!" Dean shouted, grabbing his arm and giving him a look. He wasn't sure Sam wasn’t kidding but on the off chance that he wasn't... "Only I get to see you like this," he gave a slight smile. "And no going somewhere else for... for affection," he added, trying to quote Sam. There was no denying it, it had bothered him.

Sam frowned, brows furrowed as he looked at Dean. "Why would I go anywhere else for affection? I have you, the one I wanted all along," Sam told him, leaning into kiss Dean's lips softly. "I was actually hoping you'd stop me from going out like this, bad enough I come back this way sometimes."

Dean's 'kitty door' joke died on his lips once Sam claimed his mouth. "Me too... have the only one I've ever wanted," he agreed, arms going around Sam and vaguely wondering whether their date could wait till the next day.

* * *

[Two Days Later] 

Sam sat on the end of the bed, watching as the bathroom door opened to reveal Dean, still partly dripping from his shower, a towel slung low on his hips, another towel in his hand that he was drying his face with, then his hair. Cat-like hazel green eyes watched as Dean stepped over to his duffel reaching in to pull out his clothes. "Don't," Sam told him softly, pulling to his feet, walking over to Dean, arms wrapping around him and hands cupping his ass. "Let me lick you." 

"Mmm," leaning in, Dean kissed Sam full on the mouth, sucking his tongue inside and stroking it with his own, before he pulled away, chuckling. "I gotta get dressed." The next thing he knew, Sam was rubbing his face along his neck. He let him do it for a moment, and then pulled free of him. "I really need to get going." Giving his lover a look, he bent down and pulled his shorts up his legs. Since Sam seemed to be standing in his way, he walked around him and reached for his jeans.

Sam turned, his hand snaking out to grip Dean's wrist, "No!" His gaze met Dean's as he licked his lips. "I mean," he shook his head, "you can't. I _need_ to do this," he said, pulling Dean closer. "Let me." Dipping his head, he started to rub his face and neck against Dean's own, over his chest, tongue darting out to lick, and slow long pulls of his rough tongue against Dean's flesh.

Dean ran his fingers through Sam's soft hair, but let out an impatient sigh. "We just went through this... Like fifteen minutes ago, Sammy." It was true, he'd been stretched out on the bed, watching TV. and Sam rubbed over and licked him all over. Claiming him, he called it. "Seriously? Sam?" Thinking he had to be joking, Dean moved away again, only to look at his wrist where Sam had an iron grasp around it.

Sam shook his head slowly, his gaze intent on Dean's, his elongated pupils growing large. "You washed it off. I need to do it again," he stepped closer, dipping his head to rub against Dean, "until I can only smell me, not soap, not shampoo. Me."

"Dude... you saying every time I take a shower?" He stood still again for another couple minutes. "You know this usually leads to sex, or me hard... I don't have time for that," he groaned, grabbing his shirt. Waiting for a strategic moment, he pull the tee over his head, rolling his eyes as Sam prevented him from pulling it all the way down until he'd kissed and rubbed his chest. "Okay... I smell like you Sam." Pulling him into his arms, he kissed him hard, until both of them ran out of breath, then broke away, grabbing his boots and socks. "Continue this later, alright."

He practically ran out the door while Sam was still a little dazed. Dammit, he had to meet a guy to get information and he couldn't be late.

* * *

They'd crossed several state lines over the last couple of weeks. It hadn't been perfectly smooth sailing all of the time, they'd had their arguments. Each had different ways of dealing with things, but they managed to come to agreements. Dean had never stayed with the same person for more than three days straight, like ever, so the way he saw it, every day they were together was a major accomplishment.

They'd put Sam's car into storage. It wasn't that they weren't optimistic or serious about staying together, but Dean was still a little scared that this happy little dream of having found a soul mate, someone he could live with... want to live with and share everything he had with... would be taken away. He'd heard a lot about that 'honeymoon' period. And this was a 'just in case.'

They'd finished a hunt. Sam had gotten all the pictures he wanted and then Dean had sent the rare creature, a Stragos, straight to hell. Now they were kicking it at a bar and Dean couldn't be happier. He liked telling Sam how he should write the hunt up for his web site, giving himself all sorts of credit, but knowing when he looked at the damn site, he wouldn't be mentioned and the story would be pared down to its basics. "Come on... you know I'm a damned big hero."

Sam frowned at Dean as he sat next to him, his nose wrinkled. "You smell funny," he told him, blatantly ignoring Dean's patting himself on the back.

"I what?" He'd wiped off the beer that the cocktail waitress had spilled on him earlier, but he looked down at his shirt, then stripped his over shirt off. "Jeez, you got some sharp nose. So you gonna mention me?" He snapped his fingers in front of Sam's face. "On your freaking expensive site, am I may be getting a byline?"

Sam continued to stare, his mind on the fact that Dean smelled like something else, not him. Not like his. "Whatever you want." Sam told him, not really paying attention to what he had just agreed to, his cat-like hazel eyes glittering.

"Really great." Dean started to smile, until he recognized that look and raised his hand up. "Uh uh, no... Sam, you listening? No. Just no. Not here." 

Sam gave a small nod as he leaned toward Dean. "Yeah, right here, right now," he answered softly, dipping his head to rub his face and neck against Dean's, a low purr sounding deep in his throat. "Wanna lick you," Sam said breathlessly against Dean's neck.

"Shshsh... no!" Pulling away, Dean dragged his chair around the other side of the table and gave Sam a strict look. "Cut it out, we can't have you licking and rubbing here. Once we're done with our drinks, in the car or motel, alright. Look, our food is here." They'd ordered appetizers and the smell had Dean's stomach grumbling. The purring sound, on the other hand, had Dean putting his finger against Sam’s mouth to shush him until the waitress moved away.

"Not later," Sam slid his chair closer to Dean's again. "Now. Need to," he told Dean, his eyes meeting the hunter's, "it's important."

"No. We gotta get this thing under control. Come on Sam, when you first met me, you weren't always... you know, claiming," he whispered. "I'm yours, okay, now grab some food. It'll take your mind off it. Try." There was no fucking way he was going to let Sam maul him at the table in a bar... a normal bar. Sure they'd been at some seedier places where anything went, but this wasn't one of those joints. Picking up a hot wing, he pressed it against Sam's lips. "Lick it," he said, realizing he'd been too suggestive himself and rolling his eyes. 

Sam's gaze dropped to the hot wing before darting back up and meeting Dean's eyes. "I'd rather lick your _'wing'_ ," Sam told him softly, voice a few octaves deeper, huskier. Raising a hand, Sam gripped Dean's wrist, slowly pushing it and the hot wing away from his face, his eyes never leaving Dean's, tongue darting out to lick the sauce from Dean's lips. "Let me lick you." 

The intensity with which Sam was looking at him made Dean feel very much like that hot wing, or rather how the wing would feel if it could feel Dean's own desire for it. "Sam..." he said softly as Sam started to lean in.

"Do you boys need anything else?" The waitress asked, putting one hand on the table and leaning in.

Dean immediately pulled back from Sam. "I... I'd like another beer."

"What about you?" She asked, popping her gum. "Hmmm? Cat got your tongue."

Dean gave a start and elbowed Sam. "You want another. Sure... I think he wants another."

She frowned, "are you sure? Maybe he's had enough. Would you prefer a coffee?" she asked, moving slightly over since the guy didn't appear to even be looking at her.  
Sam didn't look away from Dean, his gaze laser focused on the hunter, only giving his head a shake. "No beer, no coffee. Milk, tall glass of milk," he answered. "For after I finish with what I need to do here."

"And what's that, sweetie?" She asked. 

"Ah... nothing, he's just..." Dean shot Sam a look between a plea and a threat.

"Oh, just claim what's mine," Sam smiled, almost sweetly, though his eyes narrowed as he continued to only look at Dean.

She frowned. "I don't understand."

"Just... just get the beer and milk," Dean snapped. As soon as she walked away in a huff, he swung his gaze towards Sam. "For Chrissakes Sam, not here. Not now. Just... fucking get a hold of yourself!"

Sam's smile fell away as he pulled back. "Fine, whatever." All interest was gone from his voice. "You know, I don't think I want the milk after all," he mumbled, reaching into his pocket to pull out a few bills and tossing them on the table. "Enjoy your dinner, Dean. I think I need to take a walk," he said, starting to walk toward the door and catching the waitress and canceling his order. 

"Dammit..." Swearing under his breath and checking to make sure Sam had left enough to cover everything, Dean got up and went to follow Sam out. "Sam? Sam!" Cursing again as he shoved someone out of the way, Dean walked out the door and caught up with Sam in the parking lot. "Sam... come on, don't be like that..." 

Jaw clenched, muscle twitching, Sam eyed Dean. "Like what? I'm only 'getting a hold of myself' like you told me to do. Wouldn't want to upset the mighty hunter," he brushed past Dean and kept walking. "I might end up on the hood of the car," he mumbled under his breath.

Running his hand over his face, Dean took a deep breath. "Came here to relax, have a beer... Forget it. Let's go." He grabbed the keys out of his pocket. 

"No one's stopping you," Sam told him, pausing his steps, hands shoved in the front pockets of his jeans, his gaze flickering to the car only to return to Dean's face. "You go inside," Sam told him, "I'll see you later," he started to walk again. 

"For crying out loud." Dean went after him and grabbed his arm. "Look, you know... Sam you know we couldn't... dammit, we couldn't act like a pair of eels in heat, not there. What did you expect me to do?"

"What did you _want_ to do, Dean? What did you _feel_?" Sam asked softly, giving a small shrug. "That's all I wanted to do, people go in bathrooms for quickies all the time in bars." 

The thought hadn't crossed his mind. "Alright... I'm sorry, I was a little harsh," he said, nodding as he recalled the words that set Sam off. "You should have just asked, Sam. I didn't think of the bathroom and all I could think of was that ... right there on the table, we couldn't do it. It just... It's just a little beer that got on me. No one's _touched_ me." He was a lot more careful to avoid hugs and too much brushing up against others. "Let's go home. Together," he said, having the feeling his panther was about to walk away again.

"Just a little beer, huh?" Sam pressed his lips together, giving a nod as he looked away from Dean, back toward the bar, giving a heavy sigh as he started to shrug off his jacket, letting it fall to the ground. He reached for the hem of his tee and pulled it up over his head, dropping it to the ground alongside the jacket. Reaching for the fastenings of his jeans, Sam started to undo those. 

"Woohoo, honey! Take it off!" a woman yelled as she staggered out of the bar. 

Sam nodded to her, giving a tight smile, lips pressed in a thin line. " About to, it's only a little clothes, no one touches me," he shrugged.

"I didn't take my clothes off," Dean said tightly, his fists balled at his sides. Hearing more remarks from the woman, he turned. "Get outta here, there's nothing to look at."

When he turned back, Sam had really unbuttoned jeans. "Sam... come on man... it's not the same. I did not go around that bar stripping. I was at the table, with you... only, Sam," he reached out and grabbed both Sam's wrists before Sam could shove his jeans down. "Don't."

Sam's gaze snapped to Dean's. "Then let me mark you. For me it's the same thing."

There was a catcall from behind them and Dean just wanted to slam that person's face into something. "In the car," he nodded toward the Impala, starting to unbutton his shirt with one hand. He was gonna have to think on this later, because right now... he was just getting pissed off.

Sam started to protest, to tell Dean no, that he wanted to do it right here, right now, but then he saw Dean starting to unbutton his shirt and thought he knew where this might be going. "In the car, I can do it in the car?" Sam asked him. 

"Well... yeah. When have I not let you do it in the car?" he asked, "Except when I'm driving. Back seat?" He quickly got the door open, and started sliding inside, and shrugged off his over-shirt.

Sam nodded, bending to quickly snatch up his discarded clothes. He shoved them over into the front seat as he climbed in after Dean and closed the door behind them. Sliding over Dean, Sam ran his face over the hunter's upper chest and neck before lifting his head and slanting his mouth over Dean's, tongue darting in to tangle with the hunter's, a soft low moan breaking from Sam's throat.

A low grunt of pleasure broke from Dean. Closing his arms around Sam, he ran his hands up and down his bare back and kissed him back with everything he had, though he knew what Sam really wanted was to rub his face and neck all over him. He broke the kiss, and butted his forehead against Sam's, hoping his 'cat talk' would smooth things over between them.

Sam's lips quirked slightly up at the corners, a soft sigh escaping his parted lips as he looked down into Dean's face. "Love you too," he answered. Leaning in, he dipped his head, running his face and neck over Dean's own, across his chest and along his shoulders as his hand fumbled with getting the neckline of Dean's tee shirt pulled down he could rub against the bare flesh of the hunter’s chest. 

The was no question, Sam's movements on top of him, even if not purely sexual, were getting to Dean. "Lemme... lemme take it off," he whispered against Sam's cheek. Though Sam lifted, he still barely gave Dean enough room to pull it off, and then was on him again before Dean's head was back to being pillowed by the corner where the seat met the door. Lifting his hips and not getting enough pressure, he tried to reposition. One of Sam's knees was on the floor board, Dean shifted, groaning as he finally managed to rub his jean clad cock against Sam's thigh as desperately as Sam was rubbing his face all over him. 

"You want it?" Sam asked breathlessly, not raising his head, only continuing to rub his face and neck against Dean's own, across his chest, and shoulders, a low purr sounding deep in his throat, vibrating against the hunter's flesh. His hands went to the fastenings of Dean's jeans, unbuttoning then lowering the zipper. His hand slid down the front of the hunter’s jeans, under his boxers, closing around his cock, stroking, squeezing his shaft. Sam groaned as if he were the one being stroked and squeezed, his own hips thrusting against Dean's hip and the seat.

"Oh... God, yeah..." Dean said shakily, thrusting into Sam's fist. "Better than... magic fingers," he managed, rolling his head to the side as Sam painted every inch of his flesh with strokes of his cheek or tongue. It was true, the purring alone got to him, and Sam knew it. He tried to kiss Sam, and managed to rub his mouth over his temple and forehead. Needing to touch, he pushed his hands down Sam's smooth back and forced them into his jeans, tight as it was, cupping his ass and moaning as Sam squeezed him again. Their breaths mingled and fogged up the windows, Dean noticed that right before he started to kiss the shell of Sam's ear. 

Lifting his head Sam licked across Dean's lips with his rough tongue, pulling back to gaze at the hunter's wet full lips a soft sigh escaping as he lowered his head once more to lick into Dean's mouth, lapping at the interior, his free hand running up the hunter's chest, thumb brushing over his nipple, toying with the sensitive nub as his other hand stroked Dean's cock and got him impossibly harder. 

The small touches made difficult by the cramped space, the sounds they made sounding louder in Dean's ears, the fires they were setting in each other, it all seemed so much more intense in these surroundings. Twisting his tongue around Sam's, Dean took control of the kiss, groaning as he tried to push up harder against Sam, fucking into his hand with single minded focus... he needed to come, needed it bad. 

Dean broke the kiss and took a deep breath. "Take me in your mouth... oh God please," he said, his voice edged in desperation as he tried to change his position to make it possible. "Please..."

Lips against Dean's, Sam breathed the question, "Yeah?" Their breaths mixed and mingled before Sam slowly pulled back as far as he could go and tugged Dean's jeans down to his thighs. Dipping his head, Sam licked Dean's dick from base to tip, tongue swirling around the crown, dipping into the slit, and lapping at the precum that pearled at his tip. A low purr started to sound from his throat. 

"Ungh... fuck..." Dean's knee banged into the back of the front seat. Letting out a sharp breath the instant Sam's tongue touched him, he cupped the back of Sam's head, fingers clenching and unclenching around his soft hair, the blunt nails of his other hand digging and scraping over Sam's shoulder as Dean encouraged him to keep going. "Drive me crazy. You know that? Crazy," he insisted, trying to fuck Sam's mouth, needing to be deep inside the hot wet vibrating channel of his throat.   
Glancing at Dean from under his brows, Sam's lips quirked up in a small smile before he lowered his head and took the hunter's cock deep, and swallowing against the head and letting his throat vibrate around him for a long moment. Slowly, he pulled his head up until he his lips tightened around Dean's crown. Swirling his tongue over Dean's blunt tip, he started sink down again, sucking him deep into his throat. He moved up and down, his hand working the base of the hunter's cock each time he pulled his mouth up the length of his shaft. With each taste, each sound that he drew from Dean, Sam marked his mate as his own. Sensing Dean's desperation, Sam's slid his free hand down to cup Dean's balls, squeezing as he worked him, humming and purring against his length. 

Dean jackknifed up, squeezing his knees around Sam's arms and shoulders as he bucked, fucking his mouth with abandon, unable to think anymore about whether he was riding Sam's mouth too hard. "Yeah... oh God yeah... Sammy!" He held onto his lover's shoulders with bruising force, then threw his head and shoulders back as a deep wet groan tore out of the back of his throat and the first rope of cum shot out of him. One hand searched and gripped the back of the seat as he kept riding the waves of his orgasm, fucking Sam's mouth, whispering his name in a thick, needy voice that was almost unfamiliar. 

Sam's eyes flickered up toward Dean's face as his knees squeezed him, making movement a little difficult at first, but not impossible. A smirk pulled at the corners of his lips as he closed his eyes, reveling in the sounds of pleasure that spilled from the hunter's soft full lips as he continued to work his cock. Swallowing down every drop Dean had to give him, Sam moaned softly, his own cock twitching and pulsing in his jeans, wetting his boxers with precum. 

Once Dean had relaxed back and his cock went flaccid, Sam allowed the hunters cock to slip out of his mouth and fall across his thigh. Immediately, he pulled back and unfastened his jeans, pushing and tugging them down. Wrapping his hand around his hard aching cock, he started to stroke, long hard pulls on his cock as Sam bent over so his head wouldn't hit the roof as he moved up Dean's body and angled his hips toward Dean's chest. Head pressing against the roof, lips parted as he panted, Sam's muscles tensed, teeth gritting together as his balls drew up. "Dean!" Sam shouted between his teeth, just as his cock surged, jetting his spunk, hard spurts of cum painting the hunter's chest. 

It happened so fast, Dean hadn't been prepared, but he should have been. He'd had Sam come on him like that so many times now, he'd stopped trying to make him come in his mouth instead. "Cat thing," he shook his head, and rubbed his hand across his cum slicked chest, before licking his finger and tasting his lover. He was still breathing heavily, his gaze taking in Sam's lust blown vertically elongated pupils. "You... you satisfied now. Yours?" He started to pull Sam closer.

Sam gave a nod, lips curling into a satisfied smile as he lowered himself down over Dean, rubbing his head and neck against Dean's, "Yeah, better. Mine," he agreed softly, eyes closed as he rubbed against the hunter purring contently. 

"Then start licking," Dean chuckled, knowing nothing could clean him up as well as Sam's tongue. Hell, he even smelled fresh and clean to himself when Sam was done so he wasn't sure what scent Sam thought he was depositing on him. "Maybe we should bottle it up... then if it’s not a convenient time for this, I could look like a douche bag putting on some cologne."

Sam edged back a bit, his mouth trailing kisses and licks across Dean's chest before his tongue darted out, licking slowly across the hunter’s chest straight through his own cum, cleaning his mate with long smooth strokes of the flat of his rough tongue. "And miss this?" Sam asked, between one lick and the next. 

"Miss the arguing," he clarified. "I mean... like if we're in the middle of a hunt and can't take out fifteen minutes. Mmm," he rubbed his aching mouth against Sam's hair, kissing him lightly. "Can't always do this. You ah... what happens if we can't?" He tightened his hold over Sam. "Don't get mad Sam, I just need to know, to understand." 

Sam stilled, slowly lifting his head to look down into Dean's eyes. He licked his lips. "The cat doesn't mate while he hunts, Dean. I doubt that's going to be an issue," he pressed his lips together thoughtfully, "but after, maybe even _right after_ ," he nodded, "yeah, I'm gonna want to. _Need_ to." 

"You mean if there's blood and stuff on me. Okay... we'll work it out." At least half the time after a hunt, he was around other humans, those he'd saved or their family. It could get sticky. "We'll ... we'll figure it out."  
Sam gave a small nod, lowering his head to Dean's chest, the soft purring starting once again deep in his throat as his eyes slowly slipped closed. "Think of it like I tried to show you," Sam mumbled sleepily, eyes still closed, "when my scent isn't there, you're bare ass naked to me, to the panther inside me." He shook his head against Dean's chest. "He doesn't like that." 

When Sam had tried to show him, to explain, Dean had been focusing too much on the fact that he hadn't taken off his own clothes or put himself into any situation that would be the equivalent of Sam taking his clothes off. But he got it now, it didn't matter what the reason was, when Sam's scent wasn't the dominant scent on him, to Sam, it was as if Dean was walking around naked. "Yeah. I get that," he finally whispered, after thinking it through. "I do."

Sam's lips curled into a smile. "Good," he answered, his purring growing louder until it sounded like they were inside a hornet’s or like a small motor was running right outside the car.

After a little while, Dean forced his eyes open. "You know, that's gonna make me either want to fall asleep or to fuck, and really... our room is better for either. We should go." Accepting one more kissing from Sam, he waited for him to get off, and then they were each exiting from separate doors. 

Dean didn't bother to put his shirt back on, and had one hand on the roof of the car as he fumbled to get the driver's door open, when a woman started to walk toward him. He recognized the feral look on her face, the interest in her eyes. He'd just opened his mouth to tell her she was barking up the wrong tree, when she stopped suddenly and practically sniffed the air.

Sam watched the woman walk toward Dean, could smell her musk, her interest in what was his. Slightly slanted hazel green cat-like eyes narrowed, their pupils elongating as his lip curled in warning. Before he could say anything or allow the snarl that was bubbling up in his throat out, she spoke, her eyes widening. 

"Oh, sorry, I didn't realize you were owned," she said, her gaze sweeping over to Sam across the hood. A small smile pulled at her lips as she looked at Sam. "And by a panther, how rare." she offered with a nearly respectful nod of her head. 

Relaxing slightly, Sam returned the gesture. "I could say the same about you... cheetah." 

The woman's smile widened as her gaze swung between the two men. "Well, my loss. I bid you both a good night." she said, turning on her heels and walking away.

Dean's eyes widened. He sniffed himself, and then he looked across the roof top at Sam, their gazes clashing. "Don't say a thing. Not. A. Single. Thing."

Sam smiled a wide Cheshire cat grin as he stared back across the roof of the car. Tugging open the car door, he sing-songed, "I told you soooo," as he climbed into the passenger seat. 

Starting the car, Dean looked over. "Keep it up, Sammy, and I'm getting a leash. For _you._ " Cranking the music up high so it drowned out Sam's answer, Dean threw the car into reverse, and hit the road. All in all, if it would keep the cheetahs off his back, it might not be a bad thing. Though he wasn't about to admit it. Or to being owned.

THE END


End file.
